Glimpse of Home
by LoquitorLatinae
Summary: When the Winchesters move to a new town, six-year-old Dean experiences the supernatural. Years later, his childhood "illusions" come back to haunt him.  AU, eventual Dean/Cas.
1. Chapter 1

Alright, this is my first Supernatural fic! I've been a mega fan of the show for a long while now and have wanted to write a fanfiction for almost as long. Finally, I got up the courage to actually write one, so…here it is! It'll be short, maybe just a three-shot, but I had a lot of fun writing it so I hope you enjoy!

Obligatory disclaimer: I don't own the characters of Supernatural, I just play with them. This holds true for all other parts of this story.

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Part I

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The night air was dark and calm, so cold that it chilled down to the bone as three mismatched figures stumbled out from a black '67 Chevy Impala and toward a ramshackle house on the outskirts of a small Midwestern town. The first figure moved quickly over to the door, hands stuffed deep into the pockets of an over-used brown leather jacket, searching for keys. The other two much smaller figures trailed a few steps behind, sliding around on the two-inch thick snowfall layering the pavers leading up to the front porch.

Dean Winchester, only six years old, clutched fervently onto Sammy's little hand, his three-year-old younger brother half-asleep as they stumbled after their father. They had just finished driving ten hours across three states and all three of them were ready for a good night's rest. John Winchester had just rented out the new home and after living for two months in a cramped motel room, anything would be a welcome change, even if this new place looked like it probably should've been torn down.

Two months ago the Winchester family home in Lawrence, Kansas had burned to the ground, with Dean and Sam's mother inside it. John had managed pull Dean and Sam from the burning building but his wife had been caught in the original explosion—something about a gas leak—and had been gone too soon to save. Dean and Sammy had both been in the same room at the time…Dean could still remember the look on his mother's face when—

A dull sting pricked at Dean's eyes and he shook his head as he sucked in a long breath of the sharp, cold air. Nope, he definitely wasn't going to start crying again. It was alright for Sammy to cry, but he couldn't. He had to be a big boy now and take care of Sammy, had to be strong for his brother. His Dad had said that he had to be a big boy now, so he would.

Dean's attention was drawn up as he heard the rattle of keys and he took another breath of the lung-burning air as he watched his father wrestle with the front door. He could hear his Dad muttering under his breath as he rattled the keys around in the lock, his voice raspy from exhaustion. "God fucking dammit, come on…" Just when Dean was sure that they'd be sleeping in the back of the Impala again there was a loud click and the front door of the dilapidated house opened. "Finally, Jesus…"

John let out a long sigh as he shoved the door open then, with a low grunt, turned around and waved towards his sons. "Dean, get Sam inside and try to find a thermostat or at least a fireplace. I'll go back and get our things."

Trying to hide his shivers and too cold to speak, Dean managed a stiff nod. Tugging on Sammy's hand to get him moving again, he hobbled inside, tears almost pricking his eyes as they stepped over the threshold into the house and found that the temperature was no warmer than it was outside. Being inside seemed to wake Sam up a bit though and he blinked his wide eyes open. "Dean…? Where are we…?"

Dean bit his lip as he tried to scan the room for any source of warmth and think up an answer at the same time. It wasn't easy. "Um…We're, we're home, Sammy…"

Sammy let out a small moan at his reply. "No, we're not _home_…! Dean—!"

Dean shushed his baby brother, refocusing instead on a small woodstove tucked into the corner of the front room. Despite his whining, Dean was still unwilling to let go of Sam and so pulled him along as he wobbled over to the stove to investigate. Sammy let out a wide yawn and his wavy brown hair falling into his face, his free hand coming up to wipe at his eyes as Dean pulled the grate open on the woodstove. There were three small logs inside, a handful of crumpled up pieces of newspaper, and a few pieces of trash. Not the best fuel for a fire, but it would still probably work.

Hearing the front door open and slam shut again, Dean looked back over Sammy's shoulder to see his Dad wrestling their three duffle bags into the house. They didn't bring too much, not having been able to save much from the fire, but occasionally the fact that they had less to carry was a good thing. "Hey Dad, there's a stove, but the wood looks all dried up and stuff and I don't have a match."

John heaved a sigh and dropped the duffle bags onto the floor in the hall. "It's a start at least. Here," his voice trailed off and he dug around in his jacket pocket, his hand reemerging with a lighter clutched in his fingers, "good thing I come prepared."

Dean smiled and scooted Sammy to the side as their Dad walked over and knelt down by the woodstove. He had to click the lighter a few times but eventually a tiny flame sparked to life and John used it to catch the edge of one of the old newspapers on fire. In a matter of minutes the small flicker had spread to the logs and Dean began to feel some of the cold melting away. The garbage made the smoke smell funny but that was alright, the warmth was worth it.

Dean held his hands up to it and Sammy pressed closer to his older brother and the source of heat as the warmth began to seep into the room. The glow from the modest fire cast an orange glow on John's face as his lips curled up into a soft smile before he pushed himself back up onto his feet. "Since we don't have any furniture yet, what do you boys say I go get our sleeping bags and we camp out in the front room for tonight?"

Dean's green eyes lit up almost as bright as the fire inside the woodstove. "All three of us?"

"Yeah, the three of us."

"That'd be good!"

The small smile reappeared just for a moment on John's lips. "Alright then. You get you and Sammy changed into your PJs while I go get the sleeping bags."

"Right!"

That was the first night in a long while that Dean fell asleep quickly and stayed asleep through the whole night. He and Sammy ended up sharing a sleeping bag which was positioned mere feet away from the small woodstove while their Dad slept on their other side. Even in the strange new house, sandwiched between the warmth, Sammy, and his Dad, Dean felt more at ease than he had in weeks. With a sweater tucked under his head for a pillow and Sammy curled up against him, it took Dean less than ten minutes to drift to sleep after their Dad kissed them both good-night.

For the first time in a long while it felt like…like things might be able to feel normal again.

OoOoOo

The next day Dean awoke to the feel of a beam of pale light hitting his face. Blinking his eyes open, it took him a moment to realize where he was. He was on the floor and a quick glance around told him that his Dad was already up. Sammy was still curled up against him, the space where their chests were pushed up together the only part of him that was still warm. Everything else was cold, the thin sleeping bag not doing much to fight off the chill. The small fire in the woodstove had long since died out, leaving the room as cold as a freezer. As Dean shifted he realized that his Dad had tucked his own sleeping bag over his sons when he woke up to try to keep them warmer but it hadn't helped much.

Shivering, Dean gently pulled himself free of his brother's tiny grasp and shimmied out of the sleeping bag. As soon as the cold air hit his skin directly his shivers grew to full on tremors and he immediately padded over to his duffle. With a small grunt he pulled two jackets out, wrapped one around himself, then shambled back over to where Sam was laying and draped his second jacket over his little brother. Sammy didn't even shift, the three year old still so deep asleep that he couldn't even feel the chill, but it made Dean feel a little better.

The sound of shuffling drew his attention away back further into the old house. Dean tilted his head up while at the same time he pushed his hands into the pockets of his jacket. "Dad?"

When he didn't get a reply Dean's face pulled into a pout and he began to move toward the noise. "Dad, is that you?"

The front room led towards a narrow hall and as Dean walked through it the cracked wooden boards under his feet creaked and groaned. The soft morning light trickling in through the ratty curtains in the front room didn't quite reach back into the thin hall, making it seem a little…creepy. Not that Dean was scared or anything. That was, that was something little kids would be scared by, not Dean. Not Dean.

"Hey—"

A cry burst from Dean's lips and he jumped about a foot as a voice suddenly called out to him from a darkened room at the end of the hall. Before he could even open his mouth to call for his Dad, John Winchester himself hurried out of the darkened room and was at his son's side. "Dean! Hey, it's alright, it's just me."

Dean instantly began to calm down—as well as feel like an absolute baby as his Dad smirked down at him. "Sorry, Dean, didn't mean to scare you."

"Y-you didn't scare me, I, just, got surprised is all!"

"Right." Reaching down, John ruffled Dean's short hair, apparently willing to accept his son's reply. "Sam still asleep?"

Happy that his Dad didn't think he was a baby, Dean nodded quickly. "Yup! When did you get up?"

"Ah, about an hour ago. I had to wake up but I figured that's no reason for you boys to have to get up early."

"Oh. Is that why you were in there in the dark?" Dean cast an uneasy gaze into the room his father had come out of.

"Didn't want to wake you and Sammy with the lights. I was trying to get things ready for you two today so you wouldn't have to dig through boxes. I also wanted to check around and make sure there wasn't anything dangerous in this run-down piece of sh—"

Dean blinked as his Dad cut himself off mid-word but when he didn't continue, Dean figured that he was waiting for him to say something. It sounded like he was worried about the house and Dean didn't like the way his Dad's brow was so furrowed. He didn't know what to say but he knew he had to say something. "It's…it's okay, Dad."

John sighed and Dean immediately knew that he hadn't fooled his Dad this time. "I know this place isn't the best—hell, it's barely habitable—but until I get some money—" The man's tired eyes landed on Dean again and his voice trailed off before he pasted a weak smile onto his face. The forced smile brought a small frown to Dean's own face as he stared back up at his father. "I won't bother you with that. Long story short, we're stuck here for a while, so we're all going to have to make the best of it. I'm going to need you to be patient with me for a while, and keep an eye on your brother."

"I will. But, where are you going?"

Dean padded after his father as the eldest Winchester shrugged on his jacket and began to walk toward the front door. "I need to go to work."

Dean's bottom lip slipped out in another pout. "You're working again? You work too much!"

John chuckled, the noise different than Dean remembered ever hearing before two months ago. "There's no such thing as too much work, and I'll work as long as I need to in order to keep us going. Now," Dean blinked as his Dad crouched down in front of him and rested his broad hands on Dean's small shoulders, "I'm going to be gone for the whole day but," John winced, "I don't have the money to pay for a baby-sitter. Will you be alright here alone with Sam?"

Dean's answer was instantaneous, his face drawing into an expression much too serious for a boy his age as he gave a firm nod. "Yes. We'll be fine!"

John's lips quirked back up in a weak grin at his son's answer though he didn't seem quite convinced. "There's some food in the cupboards that we brought with us and I'll bring dinner back on my way home. And if anything happens, call me. I left the number to my new job on the fridge."

"It's okay, Dad. I'll take good care of Sammy."

"Okay then. You're a good boy, Dean." Straightening up, John ran a hand over his face before reaching out for the doorknob. "I'll be back around eight tonight, hopefully."

Dean swallowed but nodded. It would be dark by the time his dad got back, not that he was worried about it or anything. The house would be dark and cold and he'd have to tell Sammy not to be scared, but he could do it because he was a big boy now.

It still took everything Dean had not to tell his dad to stay and he had to bite his lip to stay quiet as his father slipped out the front door.

Sammy woke about an hour later. In the meantime Dean had poked around the house as much as he dared, happy that he had managed to at least find a small box of their toys. Good thing he did too because, what with the snow and ice outside, they spent all but an hour cooped up inside. They had cold, dry cereal for breakfast and lunch and it wouldn't be until dinner time that Dean finally worked up the courage to try to use the stove.

It had been two hours since they had gone out and an hour since Dean had gotten Sammy to take a bath with him after they had come back inside covered in ice and mud. Then Sammy had been complaining that he was hungry and that he didn't want cereal, he wanted something hot. Dean had been waiting for their Dad to come home—he said he would bring dinner—but by then it had gotten dark and both of their stomachs were rumbling. So Dean had dragged a step-stool over to the oven so he could see the stovetop and, after a few minutes of twisting rusted dials, got one of the burners to heat up enough to boil a small pot of water. He didn't know how to make much, but he had seen his Dad cook pasta enough that he thought he could do it.

Twenty minutes and two light burns later he managed to scoop a heap of over-cooked spaghetti noodles into two bowls and dump a spoonful of marinara sauce from a jar over them. Passing a bowl to Sammy, Dean fought back tears as he sucked on a burned finger before grabbing his own bowl.

His expression lightened a bit as Sammy began to shovel the soggy noodles into his mouth, the three-year-old not caring that it wasn't cooked right and tasted funny. If Sammy was happy, the burns didn't matter too much.

However, half-way through the make-shift meal some bad feelings started to come back over Dean and it had nothing to do with his cooking skills. It was a cold shiver running down his spine and the feeling of someone watching them eat. Sam seemed oblivious but three times Dean spun around in his seat to look around, his hand clutching onto his fork.

Nothing was outside the windows but pitch blackness, but that wasn't even it. It felt like someone was watching them from the hall. From inside the house. Not necessarily bad, just watching, intently. The third time he turned around, Sam looked up from his bowl. "What's wrong, Dean? Why'd ya keep trunin' around like that?"

"It's—" Biting his lip, Dean turned back around in his seat, "It's nothing. I just thought I heard a noise. Now keep eating. You gotta eat everything on your plate, like Daddy says."

He was the big brother and he had to take care of Sammy. He was too old to be scared of the dark, or cooking, or creepy hallways, or being alone. He was probably just making things up. No one was in the house watching them, he knew they were alone in the house. No matter how real it felt…

OoOoOo

John Winchester had come home just a little after eleven, face haggard and a bag of cold take-out clutched in his hand, to find his boys already asleep, curled up together by the woodstove. As bad as he felt, he didn't even have the chance to apologize when the next day rolled around and he had to leave again before either of them woke up. All he could do was write a quick note, wash their dishes, and put the take-out in the fridge for them to eat for dinner.

When Dean finally did wake up, the only immediate evidence that his Dad had ever been home was a rumpled sleeping bag.

Their second day in the house passed similarly to the first, only Dean was more on edge though he tried to keep a smile on his face so Sammy wouldn't ask any questions. Like last night, it still felt like someone was staring at them as they played, from the hall, from the kitchen, whatever room was next to the one they were in. Once again, it didn't necessarily feel bad, or mean, it was just _there_, an invisible someone standing in a corner and watching. It felt like they were visitors in their own home.

Dean tried to keep Sam distracted from the weird feeling by grabbing their Dad's note and trying to read it to him. At six years old, Dean was just learning to read, and he couldn't be prouder that his baby brother was learning to read right along with him. Sammy was smart, really, really smart, and sometimes knew words that even Dean didn't know. So Dean sat down with little Sammy on his lap and held their Dad's note in front of him. The hardwood in the front room was cold, the woodstove having went out long ago, but neither the chill nor the feeling of being watched stopped the small smile from spreading across Dean's face as Sammy excitedly gripped the letter.

"What does it say Sammy, can you read it?"

"Yeah!" Sam squinted at the scrawled handwriting, his voice slow and stumbled as he tried to work out the letters. "'B-boys…S, so-r…sor-ry, sorry for lee…lee…'Dean, what's that say?"

Dean rested his chin on Sammy's shoulder and read the paper in the toddler's hands. It took him a few minutes of going over it in his head before he could answer. He wanted to make sure he got it right. "'Lee…leaving'! 'Sorry for leaving so er…early'."

"Oh, right!" Wiggling in Dean's lap, Sam stared down at the paper again. "'Sorry for leaving so early. I le…left so…some food in the…fr…fry—'"

"—'Fridge'."

"No, I can do it, Dean! 'I left some food in the fridge. I…I will…'"

Sammy's voice slowed to a stop as both boys' eyes drifted towards the front door. A soft noise was coming from it, like a small animal was scratching against the wood. Dean's brow furrowed and he swallowed as that eerie feeling intensified, now stronger than ever.

"What, what is it, Dean?"

Dean pulled Sammy a little closer. "Probably just a, a dog or somethin', trying to get outta the snow." It was nearly dark outside after all. It was probably pretty cold outside. Probably.

"A dog? Should we let it in?"

"No!" Dean answered so fast Sam jumped in surprise. "I mean, no, it could be mean." His finger's tightened on Sammy's arms as the scratching on the door grew louder, more determined, before it suddenly stopped. "See, Sammy? I probably went awa—"

His words froze in his throat as the doorknob suddenly gave a violent rattle. Dean threw himself back with a shout, his frightened green eyes wide as he stared at the front door.

Sammy toppled over with him, his tiny hand gripping his brother's. Seeing the fear in Dean's eyes made the color drain from his own face. "Dean?"

"I-it's okay, it's okay, Sammy! It's okay—" Dean was interrupted again, this time by a loud slam, the impact so hard that it cracked the wood on the front door. Instantly Dean was on his feet. "It's not okay! Not okay! Come on!"

There was another bang and snap, the paneling on the front door splintered, and Dean saw it. The shadowed figure of a man in a black hoodie. An entirely different kind of fear ripped through Dean as he saw him than what had been settled in his stomach for the last day and suddenly he only had one thought in mind. Protect Sammy.

Scrambling to his feet, Dean grabbed Sam around the waist and half dragged, half carried him out of the front room. His legs were working on automatic, his mind in a blind panic as he heard the door finally give way. That guy was in the house and he must have seen them! The way he had broken the door down—if he caught them, would he hurt them? Would he_ kill_ them?

Dean didn't want to find out. Heartbeats began to mix with footsteps, the mixed noise so loud that he could hardly hear Sammy's whimpers as he ran them down the darkened hall and into the only other room he knew, the kitchen. He didn't want to take the time to see if they were being followed, too afraid with what he might find.

Eyes locking on one of the rickety cabinets, Dean practically pushed Sammy inside before climbing in behind him. He had just gotten the door closed again when heavy footsteps stalked into the kitchen, the heavy footfall of boots on the tile floor reverberating around the room. Dean slapped a hand over Sammy's mouth to keep him from crying but was sure his heart was pounding louder than any of Sammy's sobs would be. He watched through a small crack in the cabinet as the man in the black hoodie walked in. He was large and scary looking, but not quite as scary as the hunting knife he had in his hands. Dean had seen it before, his Dad had one, and he had seen what his Dad's knife had done to a deer he had caught.

"Where are you, kids?" Sam froze up in his arms, his breath short and quick against Dean's palm, as the man spoke. His voice was low, raspy, and mean. "Come on out and I won't hurt you."

Liar, liar, _liar_! Dean squeezed his eyes shut as he heard the man start to rip the room apart. "Come on, you little brats, where are you?"

He was going to find them! Dean bit his lip, wishing that he had grabbed the phone. He wanted to call his Dad. He wanted his Dad here! He didn't want to do this!

"There you are, you little shit."

Dean gasped as the cabinet door was suddenly wrenched open and a hand reached in and gripped his shoulder. A strangled shout was torn from Dean's throat and he pushed Sammy away, further back into the cabinet as he was hauled out. Pulled across the room so fast that he could barely tell which way was up, he was suddenly slammed against the wall, the man's face mere inches away from his. His grip was like iron on Dean's arm and he kept the six-year-old pinned despite his thrashing. "L-let me go! Lemme go!"

"Shut up!" Dean's mouth went dry as he suddenly found a knife pressed to his throat. "Now listen up, you're going to tell me where your mommy and daddy keep all the goods."

"I-I don't, I don't know! I—!" Dean's gaze tore away from the man's burning eyes staring at him from under the hood back over to the cabinet where Sammy was still hiding. Please, please just let Sammy stay hidden. Swallowing, Dean's eyes bounced back to the knife pressed up against his neck. He could do this. He _had_ to do this. Their Dad wasn't here, wouldn't be here; _he_ needed to be the one to save his brother. "I don't know. D-dad doesn't tell me. We just moved here!"

He got a hard shake in response. "I know you just moved here! And you got one minute to tell me where all the good shit is before I slice your throat open!"

"_Dean!_"

Sam stuck his head out of the cabinet and Dean's heart dropped down into his stomach. "No, Sammy! Stay back!"

But the man had already spotted his baby brother and his expression grew dark, twisting up into a smirk. "Maybe that little guy will be more talkative than you."

No, no, no, _no_! Dean began to thrash in the man's grip. He couldn't let him get to Sammy! He had to protect his brother! But he wasn't strong enough. "No!" He couldn't do this on his own anymore! He couldn't do it! "Please, somebody help!"

Dean didn't know who he had been calling for or, maybe he had, but the result was almost instantaneous. Less than a second after the words had slipped past Dean's lips the temperature in the room dropped so fast that the next breath Dean took clouded up. The would-be robber's brows knit and his eyes jerked around, as if trying to see who had turned the thermostat down to freezing. "What the hell?"

Any more questions he might have had were cut off as the robber was suddenly thrown back as if he had been kicked in the stomach. Dean fell roughly to the ground, gasping for air and unable to look away from his attacker as the man doubled over. He was unable to look away until out of the corner of his eye, Dean saw _it_. Standing at the far end of the kitchen was a…a person, a see-through person, and Dean didn't know how he knew but he knew that this was what he had been feeling for the last few days. It was what had been watching them and now…now it was helping them?

As much as Dean didn't understand, it didn't matter as the man in the hoodie shot across the room like he was on roller skates, flying right past where Dean was pressed up against the wall, and out through the hallway. A quick glance back in the corner told Dean that the misty figure in had disappeared, its new location made clear as a sudden scream echoed out from the front room.

"Dean!"

Dean turned his wide-eyed gaze back over to where Sam was creeping out of the cupboard and found an equally frightened and shocked face staring back at him. "C-come here, Sammy!"

Sammy didn't need to be told twice and tottered across the kitchen as fast as his legs would carry him, all but throwing himself into Dean's arms. "What, what happened, Dean?"

Pulling his brother in closer, Dean's eyes went back to the shadows in the hallway that had swallowed the robber up. "I dunno, but I'm gonna go find out."

There was another loud bang from the living room as Dean and Sammy began to creep back down the hall and Sam's hand clutched at Dean's shirt. Dean tried to calm him as best he could but it was hard when it felt like his own heart was pounding so hard it was about to come out of his chest.

They peeked around the corner just in time to see the hooded man stumbling towards the door. His eyes were wild and he swung his knife around at nothing as he screamed into the empty air. "Come out where I can see you, you bastard!"

Behind him, Sammy sucked in his breath as a white fog darted across the room and slammed into the man. Whatever it was, the impact was strong enough to send the huge man tumbling out through the shattered front door. Breaking away from Sammy, Dean ran over to the door, his hands clutching at a snapped wooden panel as he stared outside, watching the robber stand up from where he had been thrown into a snow drift.

Dean stiffened as their eyes met but wasn't ready for the look of pure terror that passed over the man's face. It took him half a second for him to realize that the man wasn't looking at him, but something over his shoulder. It was then that Dean heard Sammy's frightened whispers and felt a chill run down his spine. Tearing his eyes away from the would-be-robber, Dean let out a long breath then slowly, as slowly as he could, turned his head to look over his shoulder.

There, hovering less than a foot away, was a man. He was wearing a suit with a long jacket and as Dean tilted his head up to look up at his face he saw ruffled dark hair and two piercing blue eyes staring back down at him. But aside from his eyes, the rest of the man was made of shades of gray, transparent gray. So transparent that Dean could see Sammy's face as he stood across the room. And as afraid as Dean thought he should be—he wasn't.

The two stared at each other for another second, blue eyes drilling into green, before the figure suddenly vanished, the fog melting away as quickly as it had come. Released from whatever spell he had been placed under, Dean spun around to look back out into the front yard but the robber was gone, footsteps in the snow leading back towards the road.

The six-year-olds knees gave out and he slumped up against the broken doorframe. He tried to figure out what had happened but he couldn't—he didn't even know…

He heard footsteps hesitantly walking over to him but didn't turn until Sam reached out and grabbed at the back of his shirt. "Are, are they gone, Dean?"

Sammy's trembling voice brought Dean back and he finally felt the sting of the cold air blowing in from outside. "Yeah…Yeah, the bad guy's gone, Sammy. Can you, can you get the phone?"

"O-okay."

OoOoOo

Dean barely had to get a sentence out over the phone before his Dad dropped everything he was doing at work and rushed home. The expression on his face when he saw the front door smashed open was so close to the one his Dad had worn the night their mother died that Dean almost cried. Sam, the three-year-old exhausted and frightened, had fewer reservations and as soon as their Dad stepped into the house Sammy began to bawl, tears streaming down his face as John scooped the toddler up into his arms. Dean was next, John crouching down and pulling him close so that he had both of his sons held tight against his chest. In the distance, Dean could hear the sound of sirens coming closer but he just nestled farther against his father, burying himself in the feeling of strong arms holding him as Sammy hiccupped uncontrollably.

The younger Winchesters remained glued to their father's side as the police came. John told them as much as he could and rubbed a soothing hand up and down Dean's back as he shakily began to go over what happened that night. The police officers' brows drew together when he got to the part about the misty figure appearing in the kitchen. His Dad though, fended them off with a few gruff words, something about "trauma" but Dean was only half listening. Eventually the officers nodded and said good-bye, leaving Dean, Sam, and their Dad to pick up the pieces.

The first thing John did was to fix the door, nailing a large wooden board over the gaping hole. It wasn't clean, or good-looking, but it kept the freezing wind out and that was what really mattered right now. After that, he had done his best to put the kitchen back together before heating up the take-out he had brought home the night before. None of them had been very hungry but John insisted that they swallow down what they could.

When they were done there, John had herded his shell-shocked sons back into the front room and tried to make them comfortable. Now Sammy was asleep, curled up in their Dad's lap, and Dean had finally gotten the nerve to separate himself from his father and his brother. With a weak excuse about needing to go to the bathroom, Dean cautiously tiptoed into the hall. But he bypassed the small bathroom and instead made his way further down the hall and into the kitchen. Stepping onto the tiled floor made his fingers curl up into a tight fist, thoughts rushing back to what had happened only hours earlier. How he thought he and Sammy, how they were going to die.

It was like reliving it all over again, and Dean really didn't want to be in there, especially not alone, but he had something he needed to do. And, and he wasn't alone. Not really.

Spinning around in a slow circle, Dean's eyes searched the walls for any sign of movement as he softly spoke up, keeping his voice low so that his Dad didn't get up to check on him. "Hey, are you still here?" He was met by silence but, after a moment of waiting, he knew that it, that transparent man, hadn't left the house yet. He could feel it again, watching like before, but this time it was in the room with him.

"It's okay, I know you're here. Um…I, I just wanna say thanks." He might've imagined it but Dean thought that he felt a small breeze suddenly waft through the kitchen. It felt nice and Dean's eyes lit up as he realized that it might've been an answer. "What are you? Er, _who_ are you?" Dean was pretty sure that it was a person. It had _looked_ like a person anyway.

This time, the response he got was more than he could've hoped for. Another breeze brushed passed his arm and he turned with it, finding himself staring once again at the kitchen wall. The temperature in the room had dropped again but this time Dean wasn't afraid. Though it was cold, it was almost comforting now. The chill made the windows fog up and his eyes drifted up to the small window above the sink as a soft squeak resonated around the room. Something, something was being written in the fog by an invisible finger. J…A…

Dean frowned as he tried to make out the words. "Jay..."

J-A-M-E "James…"

N-O-V-A "James No, Novak. James Novak." A surge of pride ran through Dean as he sounded out the words. "James Novak, is that your name?"

Another soft breeze brushed by his shoulder and Dean almost smiled. "Can I call you Jimmy?" He didn't receive a sure answer but Dean was sure that the feeling in the room grew amused. "I'll take that as a 'yes'. What are you doing here, Jimmy?"

Like before, he didn't get an obvious answer but a sense of _something_ filled the kitchen. Again Dean got the feeling that he was a visitor in his own house but this time he got it. This was Jimmy's home. He lived here too, had been living here before Sammy, his Dad, and him had even moved in.

Dean's private moment was interrupted as his Dad's voice reached him from the front room. "Dean? It's getting late. Finish up and come to bed."

Dean let out a huff as Jimmy's presence evaporated. "Okay, coming!" Scuttling back down the hall, Dean just barely remembered to make a quick stop in the bathroom to flush the toilet to make it sound like he had actually been using it like he said he needed to.

When he got back to the front room, his Dad had already set their sleeping bags out by the woodstove. His Dad looked up us Dean shuffled in, his face carefully neutral though there was worry in his eyes. "You took a while in there. Everything okay?"

"Yeah, Dad." Dean walked straight over to his Dad and let him ruffle his hair.

"Alright. Go on and get in there with Sam. Today's been…rough, but let's try to get some sleep."

Dean nodded and yawned wide. The gesture made the corner of John's lips quirk up and he watched as Dean clamored into the sleeping bag next to his brother. Cuddling close, he pulled his sweater-pillow closer as his Dad zipped the sleeping bag up. After everything that happened, he was only able to feel calm enough to sleep when John lay down behind him in his own sleeping bag, moving in close enough to reach an arm out over both Dean and Sam, his warmth more comforting than it had ever been.

"Good night, Dean."

"'Night, Dad…." Closing his eyes, Dean felt a soft puff of air run through his hair. At first he thought it had come from his Dad but then he sensed something standing in the corner and the ghost of a smile played across his own lips.

"'Night, Jimmy…"

OoOoOo

After that night, the Winchesters fell into a fairly regular routine. John had stayed home a few more days before feeling ready to leave Dean and Sam on their own again, but after spending every cent he could on a new front door, a deadbolt, and window locks he finally decided it was time to go back to work. Dean told him that they would be fine, confident that no matter what happened now Jimmy would watch out for him and Sammy. He'd tried to tell his Dad so, but John had just patted him on the shoulder with a strange look on his face. His Dad didn't seem to like it when he talked about Jimmy so Dean waited until he left for work, until it was just him and Sam, before talking about him or to him.

For two weeks, Dean felt Jimmy watching them and for those two weeks he no longer felt scared about being alone all day having to watch Sammy, or cooking, or the house, or the dark. But Dean should've known that it could only last so long.

As their third week of living in their new house—which was starting to actually feel like home—rolled around, Dean noticed that something had changed. It took him a few hours after he woke up to realize just what felt so different: the house felt empty. He couldn't sense Jimmy anymore.

It was Sunday and Dean had never been happier because it meant his Dad didn't have work. Heart jumping around in his chest, Dean ran to where John was sitting in his newly furnished bedroom with Sammy. "Dad! Dad!"

John looked up from the newspaper he had been reading to Sam, his brow furrowed in worry at his son's panicked tone. "What is it Dean?"

Launching himself at his father, Dean tugged on his arm, trying to get him to stand up. "Jimmy's gone, Dad!"

All the concern in his dad's face washed away. "Jesus, Dean, I thought something was really wrong."

"It is!" Dean tugged on his Dad's arm again, angry that he still wasn't worried. "Dad, Jimmy's gone! He's not here anymore and I don't know where he went!"

"Listen, Dean…" With a soft grunt John moved Sammy off his lap and set him on the mattress beside him. "I didn't want to push this but Jimmy isn't real."

"But-!"

"No, Dean, listen for a minute." His Dad leaned down until he was at Dean's eyelevel and held his son's gaze. "Jimmy isn't real, alright? It's something that you—your imagination came up with, because you were put in a very scary situation."

Dean shoulders slumped as he tried to form words. "No, no, but…but Jimmy's…" His dad had never lied to him before, but this time, Dean knew that he was wrong. "No, Dad, Jimmy's real! He is! How, how else would I…would he've told me his name?"

"Dean, 'Jimmy' is probably just a name of someone you used to know. This isn't anything that you've done wrong, your imagination just—"

"No it's not! Jimmy is his real name, his name is James Novak!"

"_What_?" Dean watched as his dad's entire look changed as his eyes flew open in shock. "What did you just say?"

Suddenly frightened that he had said something that made his Dad mad, Dean tried to take it back. "N-nothing. Just, his name, he said his name was J-james Novak."

Sammy watched the exchange with wide eyes as John's expression melted from shocked to confused to serious. "Dean, where did you hear that name?"

"J-jimmy told me." Dean bit his lip. "Um, why? Is it bad?"

"No, Dean, it's, it's not…" His Dad released a huge breath and ran his fingers through his hair. "It's not bad. I just don't know where you ever would've heard…" His voice trailed off before he continued. "James Novak is the name of the man who owned this house before I bought it." Dean barely blinked, not surprised by the news. He already knew that this was Jimmy's house. "He lived here with his family until about a year ago when he, he got very sick."

A sinking feeling settled in Dean's stomach. "What do you mean, Dad? What happened to him?"

"He had to go live at the hospital, and his wife and daughter moved into an apartment closer to town."

That couldn't be right. Jimmy had only left today, how could he have been at the hospital? "Why was he sick? What was wrong with him?" When he had seen him, Jimmy had looked fine. Well, see-through, but okay.

"He…" John sighed again. "It's complicated Dean, but Mr. Novak fell into something called a coma. He was basically asleep for a very, very long time, a few months actually. But, last night—" His dad seemed almost hesitant before reaching over and picking the newspaper back up, flipped through a few pages, before pushing it over towards Dean. Before Dean could even try to read the small column of print though, his dad was already explaining it. "Mr. Novak, passed away last night."

A wave of cold rushed through Dean. "He, he died?"

John frowned and rested a hand on Dean's head. "He, moved on to a better place. Mr. Novak was sick for a very long time, and his wife decided that, that it was time to let him rest."

"But…I never got to say good-bye…"

John set the paper down and pulled Dean in close as tears began to well up in the six-year-old's eyes. "Hey, now, Dean, it's alright. It's alright. I don't know how you found out about Mr. Novak but, I'm sure, he knows that people cared about him."

Dean knew that his dad didn't like to talk about stuff like this and for some reason it made his tears fall faster. Without Jimmy he was going to be alone again. Without him watching them, the house would be empty, the shadows scary again. If Jimmy was gone, who would be there to keep them safe when their dad was at work?

Gripping at his Dad's shirt, Dean tried to see past the tears stinging his eyes and looked at Sammy sitting so close that their legs were almost touching. Looking at his baby brother, Dean realized he already knew the answer to his questions. Because Dean was a big boy now, he knew who was going to have to take care of them, fight off the dark, and keep them safe.

And maybe that was why he was so scared.


	2. Chapter 2

Thanks to everyone who reviewed for the last part: ramen-is-my-goddess, Alpha Kan't Spell, Manifestation of a Storyteller, Mirror and Darkling! I appreciate all the love and feedback; it's what keeps me going!

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Part II

* * *

Wiping his face off with a dirty handkerchief, Dean rolled out from underneath a beat-up '68 Chevy Corvette. The thing probably would've been scrapped by most other mechanics but Dean swore that he'd be able to fix her up. After all, he'd been taking care of his baby for over ten years now; he knew what made classic cars run.

Dusk had fallen, the early spring air cool but almost pleasantly so. The snow had just melted away, leaving the ground covered in a muddy slush. The world was just coming back to life after its long rest, the days growing longer, and for Dean it marked the beginning of a new stage in his life that had been too long in coming.

At twenty eight years old, Dean was ready for a change. He was still living in the same town his dad had moved them to twenty two years go in the same house his dad had bought and fixed up. He had been even been working at the same freaking job for about eleven years now. The job, like his house, his car, and about everything else in his life, had been left to him when his dad had died in a car accident eleven years ago.

When he was only seventeen Dean had been forced to become fourteen-year-old Sammy's father figure. It wasn't all that different from how things had worked before actually, except for the money. Their father hadn't been around much growing up, but he had always provided for the family. Without him and his income, Dean had been forced to work part-time in order to just pay for food. His dad had some cash in the bank, but Dean would be damned if he had used it for anything else than paying for Sammy's college. The kid was smart and he was going to college, period. Luckily, Bobby Singer, Dad's old boss, had reached out to them and had not only given Dean his dad's old job but occasionally fed them and gave them a little extra cash to pay for an electricity or gas bill.

Now, it wasn't like Dean had plans to switch jobs or buy a new house—No, something much better had happened. Sam, after living for six years in freaking California for college and law school at _Stanford_ of all places, had just moved back home. Dean wasn't quite sure why anyone would want to come back here, but he wasn't about to complain if it meant he got to see Sammy on a daily basis again. Somehow Sasquatch had even managed to convince his girlfriend Jessica—a girl who was _way _too nice for him—to move here with him to the crossroads of Godforsaken and Nowhere. They had moved into the old Winchester family house with Dean two weeks ago and, while Dean had to get used to having other people around again, he would readily admit that he had never been happier.

"Dean, you still out here, boy?"

A grin worked its way onto Dean's grease-stained face as he heard the familiar gruff voice calling out to him. "Yeah, Bobby. I'm just about to head home though."

Bobby snorted as he appeared from behind a pile of wrecked cars. "What're you still doin' out here? Your shift ended an hour ago, ya 'idjit."

Dean's grin grew as he pushed himself to his feet. "Ah, you know me, Bobby. I lose track of time when I'm working on a beauty like this."

Bobby just shook his head and readjusted his hat to block out the glare from the setting sun. "Ain't no reason to sit out here and freeze your ass off, boy. Now get yourself home. After all, you got some people waitin' for you these days. You're probably keepin' dinner waiting too."

Dean had to laugh at that. "Yeah, probably. I'll see you tomorrow then."

"Have a good one. And say hello to that brother of yours for me."

"Will do, Bobby!" Dean would have to pull Sammy away from his office one of these days and bring him over to the junkyard for lunch. Bobby would never say so out loud, but Dean knew that the older man was happy to have Sam back around too and wanted to see more of him.

It took him less than half an hour for Dean to make it back to his car and drive across town to his home. He still did a double-take when he saw Sam's preppy little car parked in his driveway and resisted the urge to bump it as he pulled the Impala up beside it. Honestly, he loved his brother, but his taste in cars left a lot to be desired. Dean wished he could blame it on the time Sam spent in California, but he knew that Sammy had been like that long before he left.

As soon as he stepped into the house he was hit with a wall of delicious smells. God, but was he happy Sammy brought Jess back; that woman could cook like no other. "Hey, Sam, Jess, I'm home!

"It took you long enough." Dean rolled his eyes as Sam stood up from his spot on the couch closest to the old woodstove in the corner of the room. He had his laptop out, meaning he had probably brought work home with him again. Despite Sam's words, his younger brother was smiling back at him, his ridiculous floppy hair falling in his face. "I thought you'd got lost on the way back."

"Yeah, you wish. I could probably drive back blindfolded."

Sam scoffed, but his smile stayed on his face. "I would dare you to, but I'd be afraid you'd actually take me up on it."

"You'd better believe it."

"Would you two stop flirting and come sit down? Dinner's ready."

Both Dean and Sam's face screwed up in disgust as Jess's voice drifted back from the kitchen. Dean shook his head and yelled back, "Uncalled for, Jess! I'll be right over as soon as I make a pit-stop in the bathroom to vomit."

He was answered by a short, sweet laugh from the kitchen and a chuckle from Sam. The Winchester house almost felt like a true home again.

OoOoOo

The next day, Dean managed to drag Sam out from his little office down in the town center and out to lunch. Jess's lunch hour didn't match up and unfortunately Bobby was busy too, so it was just the two of them, but at least it was something.

Sitting down in the diner across from Sam's office, Dean heaved a contented sigh as he slid onto the vinyl seat. The two of them had gotten a few looks when they walked in, though Dean wasn't surprised. They didn't exactly look like they should go together; what with Sam's nicely tailored lawyer suit and Dean's grease-stained jeans and t-shirt. But Sam dutifully ignored the stares and just quirked an eyebrow at Dean as he picked up his menu. "Rough day at work?"

"Just a lot of heavy lifting. Bobby pulled me away from the Corvette today to help get some new cars settled in the yard. I'm pretty sure he had me haul around a ton of metal just to see me sweat."

Sam grinned. "I wouldn't put it past him"

The conversation broke off just long enough for the both of them to put their orders in to the cute blonde waitress who came to their table. Dean had flirted shamelessly of course which meant that the next fifteen minutes were spent trying to get Sam to stop "discreetly" asking when he was going to settle down with a real girlfriend. Honest to God, if Sam gave him one more of those knowing looks Dean was going to punch him.

Luckily for Sam, Dean managed to skirt around the issue until their food arrived. Never so happy to see a hamburger, Dean ignored Sam's disapproving frown as he winked his thanks to the waitress. Okay, it was totally more of a pout than a frown, definitely verging on Sam's patented "bitch face".

Dean just smirked back as he pulled off the ridiculously large pile of lettuce and tomatoes the diner kitchen had plopped onto his burger. "You know, if you keep your face like that for too long, it'll stick like that."

His snide remark prompted an eye roll from Sam. "Shut up, Dean." The effect was somewhat ruined by the small grin he was trying—and failing—to fight off. He stayed quiet for all of two minutes, getting a few bites of the salad he ordered, before he felt the need to talk again. "By the way, don't think I didn't see that."

"See what?"

Dean earned himself another eye roll as he tried to speak through a mouthful of hamburger. "You, scraping all the lettuce off your lunch. What are you, five? That was the only part of your burger that might not induce a heart attack."

Now it was Dean's turn to roll his eyes. "Relax, princess. I'm as healthy as a race-horse. Besides, why waste time on all that rabbit food when I could just eat a good burger instead?"

Sam seems to have expected the answer. "What happened to all that crap you gave me growing up about why I should eat all my vegetables?"

Taking a second to take a slug of the soda he ordered, Dean tilted his head as he washed down his latest bite of meat. "Hey, I raised you right. Now I figure I've earned myself a little leeway. It sure as hell wasn't easy, what with you being you and all."

Sam's face drew up into a more serious expression and Dean realized what he had just said: that _he_ had raised Sam. The problem was, it was truer than either of them really wanted to admit. Because their Dad had been almost constantly MIA thanks to his busy work schedule, Dean had basically been left to bring Sammy up as best he could even before John died. It was a minor miracle Sam had made it to his eighteenth birthday. Dean had never blamed their Dad for anything, knowing that John did what he had to do to keep the family afloat, but Sam had felt for a long time now that John's workaholic tendencies had robbed Dean of a childhood or some such bullshit. Either way, any mention of Dean's bringing Sam up usually resulted in Sam getting all moody but this time Sam seemed to fight the feeling off. Finally, his expression melted into a dry smirk. "That's not nearly a good enough excuse for you to be pushing that much grease into your arteries."

Glad that a decent lunch hour hadn't been ruined, Dean happily let the subject be buried. "You're just jealous because Jess won't let you eat what you want anymore. I say being single is definitely a fair trade off for getting to down a quarter-pound piece of heaven like this whenever I feel like it."

"Whatever, jerk."

"Bitch."

With that brief exchange, Dean knew that they were okay. When Sammy had moved away, Dean hadn't been sure that things would ever be able to go back to how they were before. That he and Sam would drift apart.

Dean would never say so, but when Sammy had left for college he had practically ripped Dean's heart out. Sure, Dean had been proud as hell that his freakishly smart baby brother had gotten into Stanford, and sure Dean had known it was coming for months before Sam got on that plane, but it didn't stop it from hurting. For the first time, Sam was going somewhere Dean couldn't protect him.

Then, when Sammy told him he was moving back, it was like Christmas came early for Dean. He had been scared too, at first. That Sam wouldn't be the same. That Dean wouldn't have a place in his life anymore. But it turned out that Sam had missed Dean just as much; not that he'd ever say so out loud.

"Hey Sammy, after work and dinner, what do you say about heading off to the Roadhouse tonight?"

"Man, I would but in all honesty, I'm so tired I'd probably pass out after one beer."

Dean scowled into his burger. "You're a lot less fun now that you're employed, you know that right?"

Sam shook his head while at the same time a smile played across his face. "I may be having less fun, but my bank account is a lot happier. I can't spend the rest of my life living off you, especially if I ever want to have a real future with Jess."

"Yeah? You gonna buy a little house with a white picket fence, a barky little dog, and two point five kids?"

"Well buying a house is definitely on the list of things that would be good to do at some point. It's nice being at home again, but that two-bedroom one-bath is going to get real small real fast."

"I guess. But remember to give me like a thirty day notice, alright? I'll need to wean myself off of Jess's cooking."

Sam laughed and Dean was happy that his brother hadn't seemed to hear the way his voice had gone rough and caught in his throat. Even though the three of them were stuffed into a small house, Dean didn't mind too much. No matter the headaches Sammy caused him, Dean was always most content when they were together. Maybe it was just a peace of mind thing, but he wasn't sure he was ready to let that go yet.

Then again, the walls in the Winchester house were paper thin and he really didn't want to hear what Sammy and Jess were doing at night. Almost as much as Dean didn't want Sam to hear what he did with the occasional women he brought home. There were just some things they didn't need to share.

"Anyway, Sammy you need to stop talking and start eating. My break ends in fifteen and if I'm not back in time, Bobby'll bitch at me until quitting time."

OoOoOo

Sam had been right about how tired he would be after he got back from work. For once Dean had actually made it back before he did and when Sam finally walked through the door he looked ready to collapse. Apparently a big case had just come in and he had been run ragged all day, the lunch hour he had taken with Dean the only break he got.

Dean of course had teased him mercilessly for getting so wiped out by a job that basically revolved around sitting on your ass and researching. Jess had been much more sympathetic and had quickly ushered Sam to the dining table while promising a nice relaxing evening.

Two hours later, Dean left Sam and Jess at home sitting on the couch watching some network drama on TV and headed off to the Roadhouse on his own. Usually he would've just stayed and joined them but there was something about the sheer domesticity of it all that rubbed him the wrong way that night. Besides, he couldn't stand procedural cop shows.

As he pulled up to the Roadhouse in the Impala, Dean couldn't help the smile that spread across his face. Like Bobby, Ellen, who ran the Roadhouse with her daughter Jo, had been almost a parental figure for Dean and Sam growing up. Especially after their father had passed away, Ellen's door was always open to them. Dean had pretty much grown up with Jo, which was probably one of the only reasons that he hadn't asked her out yet.

Stepping into the Roadhouse felt almost as familiar as stepping into his own house and Dean immediately waved over to Ellen. Walking over to her, Dean sat down on a barstool with his usual smirk. "Hey there, Ellen. Looks like you got a good crowd tonight."

The blonde woman smiled back despite herself as Dean pulled off his leather jacket. "Yeah, a lot of people seemed to have stopped in to get out of the cold. You come here alone?"

"Unfortunately. Sammy overworked himself again so, yeah, I'm here alone tonight."

"Knowing you, I'm sure it won't stay like that for long."

Dean made a wounded face at her verbal jab but didn't bother denying anything. More often than not, his lone trips to the Roadhouse ended with him leading a young woman back to the Impala.

Looking around tonight though, he didn't see very many prospects. As bad luck had it, it seemed like most of the Roadhouse's patrons today were of the trucker and biker variety with a disappointing lack of females. The women he did see all seemed to have come with someone anyway, so that was a no go. It didn't even look like Jo was working tonight since he didn't see her hustling pool. "I doubt it. Looks like you have a high number of troublemakers tonight, none of which look like they'd like to go anywhere with me."

Ellen gave him a look. "Honey, you're the only troublemaker here. Now are you gonna order anything, or are you just going to take up space at my bar?"

"Just give me my usual."

"You got it."

As Ellen walked off a few steps to get him his drink, Dean let his eyes continue to wander around the Roadhouse. Like his preliminary once-over had suggested, most of the occupants were men who looked as grease-stained as Dean. There a few exceptions, but one of the most dramatic was a pair of businessmen sitting at the far end of the bar. Dean hadn't seen them at first but now that he got a good look at them they stuck out like a sore thumb.

The two men wouldn't have been particularly remarkable anywhere else but here they definitely stood out in their suits, shined shoes, and trimmed hair. They were sitting together talking in voices too low for Dean to hear, and it was hard to tell if they were coworkers or friends or whatever by their body language. One, who was shorter with slicked back dark blonde hair and honey brown eyes, was smirking and laughing while holding a fruity cocktail that Dean had never seen anyone but young party girls order. The other was a little taller with dark, disheveled hair and was wearing what was possibly the world's most boring trench coat as he stiffly sat in his seat nursing a beer. But the thing that really caught Dean's attention was the dark haired man's eyes. They were a shockingly bright blue, like crazy blue. He had only seen a color like that once before…somewhere…

Dean didn't know he was staring until Ellen popped out of freaking nowhere and set a bottle in front of him.

"What's the matter sweetie, you just jumped about a foot into the air. What had you so distracted? Someone catch your eye?"

"What? No! No, definitely not." Not in way Ellen meant anyway. Dean did _not_ swing that way. But that didn't mean he wasn't nosy. Trying to act casual he fiddled with the cap on his bottle. "So who are the two yuppies at the end of the bar? I don't think I've seen them come in here before and it doesn't exactly seem like their types top pick of hangouts, no offense."

"None taken, since it's true." Keeping her voice low enough so that they wouldn't hear themselves being talked about, Ellen leaned onto the counter next to Dean. "From what I overheard, they just seem to be on some sort of road trip back to see some family. They probably stopped here because it's the only place open this time of night near the highway."

That's more or less what Dean figured, but something about it didn't seem to sit right. The more he thought about it the more sure he was that he had seen the dark haired man before. He felt like he should know him, but apparently he wasn't even from around here. "Did you catch their names?"

Ellen gave him a strange look and Dean wished that he could explain his curiosity without sounding like he had already had one too many beers. "You know I have a policy against making my patrons' business my business." Dean did his best impression of Sammy's puppy eyes, a difficult task while still attempting to maintain some semblance of masculinity. The half-assed imitation seemed to work though—either that or Ellen just felt so much pity for him that she just gave in. "But I may have overheard the guy in the trench calling the other 'Gabe' and shorty over there calling the first 'Castiel'. But I can't even begin to guess while you're interested."

"Come on Ellen, I'm not _interested_, just…I thought I, knew one of them from somewhere is all."

"Right. Well I certainly know better than to pry."

The good-natured smile tugging at the corner of Ellen's lips suddenly melted away as her attention drew away from Dean and his strange curiosity to something over his shoulder. Noting the abrupt change in her expression, Dean twisted around to look behind him and his own face drew into a scowl. Two of the rougher looking clients were starting to get rowdy over in the corner. Even from where he was sitting at the bar, Dean could hear their argument as they began to shout and bump chests. A fight was brewing and Ellen knew it.

Dean knew that Ellen was perfectly capable of handling herself—the shotgun she kept under the counter was testament to that—but as long as he was sitting there he wasn't going to make a woman he practically considered his mother take care of this on her own. Ellen seemed to be able to read his mind and put a hand on his shoulder. "Don't you move from that stool, Dean Winchester. I'll go settle them down myself."

Just as she said so though, the chest bumping devolved into a full on fistfight as one of the scruffy bikers threw the first punch. There was a sharp screech as the table they were sitting at was shoved away and chairs slammed to the ground as they started swinging wildly at each other. Dean was on his feet in an instant, shaking Ellen's hand off, "Sorry Ellen, but you gotta let me take this one for you."

Without giving her the chance to argue Dean made his way toward the fight. Straightening his shoulders to make himself look as intimidating as possible, he called out towards the two brawlers. "Hey, knock it off! If you wanna start something, take it outside!"

They didn't react but Dean hadn't really expected them to. They were too far gone to pay attention to anything outside of their scuffle and Dean knew he was going to have his hands full trying to break them up. That didn't mean he wasn't going to try of course, just meant that he would have to adjust his plans. Grabbing onto the man closest to him, Dean used brute force to haul the thug away. It worked, causing a pause in the fight for all of five seconds before Dean was rewarded for his efforts with a punch to the jaw.

The second guy had come up from his side and sucker-punched Dean right in the side of the face. Knocked off balance, Dean stumbled back before he released the first guy in order to block the next shot aimed his way. In the back of his mind he heard Ellen yell something at him but his mind had just switched to automatic. If these assholes weren't going to listen to him, Dean was definitely ready to beat them at their own game.

In the blink of an eye Dean threw himself into the fight. He had the advantage over the other two in that he was sober but in the sudden free-for-all they seemed more intent on ganging up on the newcomer. Swinging his fist up in a vicious right-hook, Dean caught one of the drunks right in the nose and sent him staggering back with blood dripping down his face. Dean's heart was pounding wildly in his chest, running on adrenaline and muscle memory as his body reacted without Dean even having to think. He had beat down more than one bully in his life—it had practically been his hobby all through high school—and he knew exactly what he had to do.

Unfortunately he wasn't used to fighting two people at once and while Dean had turned his attention back to his second opponent he didn't catch it as the thug with the bloody nose grabbed an empty whiskey bottle. The only warning he had was a shrill warning across the room from Ellen before something hard slammed down on the back of his head.

Stars burst in front of Dean's eyes and a sharp pain nearly blinded him as his knees gave out from the blow. He heard footsteps thundering over but instead of looking up and finding Ellen and her shotgun his eyes caught a quick flash of a tan trench coat before his vision when black.

OoOoOo

As Dean came back to himself, the first sense that returned was pain. A low, dull thrum on the back of his head and a weakness in his limbs. He was lying down on his back on something sort of soft; maybe...definitely the small bed in the backroom of the Roadhouse. The second sensation that returned was his hearing. There was a lot of shuffling and muffled voices…and someone calling his name. Forcing his eyes open, it took a moment for Dean to grasp that he was staring up at a pair of strikingly blue eyes.

"J-Jimmy…?" The name had rolled off of Dean's tongue before he even realized he was speaking.

The eyes, and the head they were connected to, tilted to the side. "That is not my name. But, more importantly, are you okay?"

The rest of the man's face came into focus as Dean's ears were filled with his surprisingly deep voice. It was that stiff guy from the bar, his blue eyes boring into Dean's. It took half a second for Dean to even process what he had said, too caught up in the way his voice had sounded. But when the words sunk in and the haze cleared away from his brain enough for Dean to actually form a coherent thought he let out a low groan. "…My head hurts like a bitch. What happened?"

"You were hit on the back of the head with a glass bottle. It failed to shatter so you were not cut by any glass, but you have a fairly significant bump developing, as well as some bruising."

He said all of this in the same tone anyone else would use to discuss the weather. But was even weirder was that it took Dean that long to notice how freaking close the other man's face really was. There were literally less than six inches between their noses. "Um, that's great and all but…dude. Personal space?"

The other man looked like he just grasped it himself as he blinked in surprise, "Ah. My apologies."

He had just pulled himself back when the door to the backroom slammed open as Ellen came hustling inside, her lips pursed and eyes dark with worry. When she saw that Dean was awake a relieved breath of air rushed passed her lips. "Thank God. Dean Winchester, I swear you take more years off my life than I can count."

"Sorry Ellen. Did you get those clowns out of here?"

"You've only been out for about three minutes. I've got some of the other guys holding them down until the ambulances get here. Speaking of which, should I call one for you?"

Wincing, Dean slowly moved to sit up to try to take stock of his injuries but jerked forward in shock as he felt the too-familiar stranger press his hand against Dean's back to help him up. Dean muttered a quick, awkward thanks and tried to remember what Ellen had just asked him. "Uh, no. No, I think I'm good."

Blue Eyes frowned next to him. "Are you certain? You expressed some amount of pain earlier, perhaps it would be better if you went to the hospital."

Ellen's frown deepened and Dean answered back before she could launch into a concerned lecture. "Alright, I won't lie, I feel like someone used my head for batting practice, but I'm good. I've had worse and if nothing's cracked open I'll be fine." That, and he didn't have any health insurance. No way was he going to pay out of pocket to have some quack tell him that yes, he does have a bump on his head.

Ellen didn't seem completely persuaded but seemed to decide to let it go. "Fine, no ambulance. But I'm giving Sam a call so he can drive you and your car home. Lord knows if you have a concussion or not and I'm not letting you get behind the wheel in that state."

Sam wasn't going to be happy to get that phone call but, looking into Ellen's eyes, Dean knew that he wasn't going to weasel his way out of it. So instead Dean just gave a begrudging shrug and tried not to wince as the small movement caused a dull twinge of pain to shoot down his neck. Fucking great, he was going to be sore for days.

As if sensing his discomfort, the hand on Dean's back slid up in an almost soothing motion to rest against his shoulder blades. What the hell? Dean's eyes widened but he couldn't get his body to jerk away like he knew he should've. Like he would've if it had been any other random dude practically stroking his back, but hell if Blue Eye's hand on him didn't make him feel a little better.

Before Dean's mind and body could work out a plan of action, the door to the backroom opened again and the auburn-haired man from the bar stuck his head in. Despite the situation there was still a small smirk on his face, like he had just been told a particularly funny but not particularly appropriate joke. His golden eyes zeroed in on the man sitting next to Dean and his shit-eating grin grew. "Hey, Castiel, I know you want to stay here and play with your new puppy, but we gotta get going."

Dean's eyes bounced back over to "Castiel". Castiel, right. Ellen had said that earlier. He was frowning, the expression bordering on what Dean would almost call a pout, his blue eyes narrowed slightly at the other suited man. "I am not _playing_, Gabe. This man was knocked unconscious, it was the least I could do to—"

Gabe interrupted, "Blah, blah, blah, whatever. You've done your duty or whatnot, he's alive, let's go. We have places to be."

Castiel let out a long-suffering heaving sigh but obediently rose to his feet, apparently used to his companion's attitude. As his hand slipped from Dean's back, the separation was suddenly too much for Dean to take. He didn't know how he should react but he _knew_ that he couldn't just let him walk away. Reaching his own hand out, Dean snagged Castiel's elbow, his fingers gripping tightly at that awful trench.

Castiel's steps froze and his eyes immediately found Dean's and Dean felt his mouth go dry. Why was that gaze so fricking _familiar_? By now everyone in the room was looking at him and Dean realized that he should probably say something besides 'No, don't go'. "Ah, I…" Great, he couldn't form sentences anymore. Jesus, what was wrong with him? "I, I feel like I should buy you lunch or something."

Tilting his head to the side, Castiel continued to stare at him—God, did the guy ever blink?—as if he were trying to figure Dean out. Dean hoped he figured it out and shared with the class because Dean wasn't so sure that his head injury was to blame for his inability to speak. "If…you are feeling as if you owe me something, I assure you it is entirely unnecessary."

"No, it's just…Let me buy you lunch tomorrow in town."

From the door, Gabe let out a small scoff. "Sorry kid but by tomorrow we'll be—"

"—Tomorrow will be fine, if your mind's made up on the matter." Dean almost smirked as Castiel cut his friend off midsentence and continued to ignore Gabe's glower, never once breaking eye contact with Dean. If it had been anyone else, Dean would've definitely be weirded out. "Where would you like to meet?"

"Uh, how about the diner on the corner of Third and Main at noon?" Sure he had just been there today with Sammy, but it was the first place that came to Dean's mind. The Roadhouse was closed until dinner service.

Castiel nodded once. "I will meet you there then." He stared at Dean for a minute longer and Dean was half-certain that he would've gone right on staring if Gabe hadn't snagged his shoulder and practically hauled him out of the room.

As the door closed behind the two men, Ellen put her hands on her hips and shook her head. "Strange character, but after what he did it doesn't feel right of me to complain…"

That caught Dean's attention. Sure, Castiel had been there when he woke up but Ellen was a tough woman to impress. "What do you mean? What'd he do?"

"After you got hit with that whiskey bottle, that guy flew off his barstool like someone had lit it on fire. You should've seen the look on his buddy's face, his jaw about hit the floor. I didn't even have time to grab the shotgun before he was across the room. And for someone who looks like that, that Castiel guy sure can kick some ass. He had those two drunks knocked out so fast I don't they even knew what hit them. They're the ones I called the ambulance for." A scowl spread across Ellen's lips at the thought of the two trouble-makers in her bar until a moment later a different sort of thought seemed to come to mind and she turned her eyes back down to study Dean. "But I thought you knew all that already. Isn't that why you're taking him to lunch?"

"Oh, uh, yeah." If she was willing to believe it, Dean was willing to pretend like that was absolutely his intention the whole time. Everything made a little more sense that way. "Yeah, of course."

Maybe he agreed a little too readily because Ellen didn't look particularly convinced. If anything, she looked a little more concerned for his mental health. Smart woman. "…You must've hit your head harder than you thought. I'm going to go call Sam to take you home."

"…That's probably a good idea."

OoOoOo

Needless to say, Sam hadn't been happy to get a call at eleven at night that Dean had to be picked up from the bar. He became a little more sympathetic when he saw the lump on the back of Dean's head and the fist-sized bruise on his jaw. Not that it stopped him from bitching at Dean the whole way back to the house about him being an overly-protective, impulsive dumbass but a well-placed groan of pain shut him up.

The next morning, the only thing that convinced Dean that rolling out of bed was a good idea was remembering that he had a lunch date—er, appointment. It also gave him the motivation he needed to work through the morning at the salvage yard without complaining. Despite the ache in his muscles, Dean didn't whine to Bobby at all, until his watch showed twenty 'til twelve when he practically begged to be let out early for lunch. Bobby relented of course, going soft on him probably thanks to his new black and blue look.

Wiping the grease and oil off as best he could, Dean hurried back into the Impala and pulled on the clean shirt he had tossed into the backseat on his way out of the house. Usually he wouldn't have bothered but Dean didn't want to show up to lunch looking like a grease-monkey if Castiel was going to show up in a suit. Sure, he had done just that yesterday with Sam, but that was Sam. No matter what happened they had to put up with each other. Castiel on the other hand didn't have to love him unconditionally.

He might've cleaned himself off but by the time Dean got to the diner his hands were sweating and for the life of him he couldn't figure out why. What was it about Castiel that made him freak out? It wasn't like there was anything special about the guy—except maybe his ridiculous eye color that seemed to pierce into Dean's soul. In fact, by all accounts, he was the weird sort of guy Dean would usually try and stay away from, what with the staring, the strange way he talked, and lack of understanding about the concept of personal space.

But even with all that, Dean just had to see Castiel again. He had never even met the guy before in his life, but why did Dean feel like he had known him forever?

Shaking the feeling off, Dean walked into the diner. A quick glance up at the old clock on the wall told him there were still five minutes until noon but there was Castiel, already sitting in a booth by the window. He seemed to have been staring out through the glass, watching the small town pass by like he was watching a movie, but as soon as Dean stepped through the door his head whipped around and those blue eyes instantly found Dean's green and it felt like someone had shot a couple of volts through Dean's veins. Seriously, what the hell was wrong with him?

Dean offered a small smile and walked over, trying not to let the mess of emotions rolling through him show on his face. Castiel's own face was almost eerily blank but in a strange way Dean could almost feel a cloud of nerves hanging around the other man. Even if it was just Dean's imagination, he was going to run with it. It was much easier to act confident when he thought the other guy was as uneasy as he was.

"Hey, hope I didn't keep you waiting."

Castiel stiffly shook his head as Dean took a seat across him. The guy looked like he was wearing the same clothes he had worn to the bar last night. In fact he looked exactly the same; same dark ruffled hair, same five o' clock shadow. Did he sleep in his suit? "I have not been here long. I simply wanted to arrive early to ensure that I was at the right diner."

Dean's lips quirked up into a smile just because he didn't know what else to do. Hell, he didn't even know what he was doing here. "Right, well…thanks for showing up. It's Castiel, right?"

Seeing Dean's smile seemed to melt a bit of the tension from Castiel's shoulders. "Yes, Castiel Novak. And yours, yours is Dean?"

"Dean Winchester." Dean reached his hand out and Castiel immediately reached out to shake it, his grip firm and warm. Definitely human despite how he acted. And _why _did the name Novak trigger something in Dean's memory? Everything about Castiel felt like a giant déjà vu. "Ellen told me what you did at the bar and I figure you deserve a 'thanks'. I heard you kicked some ass last night."

Was it Dean's imagination or did the man look embarrassed? "It was nothing."

Dean's smile spread into a grin. "How did a guy like you learn how to fight like that anyway?"

Castiel tilted his head and for a moment he looked genuinely confused. Then he blinked, looked down at his suit, and understanding sparked in his eyes. "Ah, I suppose I do look a little settled these days." Straightening up, he once again met Dean's gaze. "I do not have a large amount of experience with bar brawls, but luckily I'm still in shape. I just returned from my tour of duty with the Air Force six months ago."

"Wow." Dean hadn't seen that one coming. Now the straight back made a little more sense, the man held himself like a soldier. Given that his dad had served in the Marines, Dean should've recognized it. "Welcome back. Was that guy you were with in the Air Force too or...?"

Dean's voice trailed off, not sure what to assume, but Castiel picked up where he had left off. "No. That's Gabriel, one of my older brothers. Actually," a hint of a smile touched Castiel's lips, "he's the only one in my family who refused to go into the service. All the same, he was the only one willing to drive me out here, so I shouldn't complain. As…disconcerting as it is I haven't yet found the time to buy my own car. Since I left for the Air Force right after I graduated high school, there are a number of things I have to catch up on."

"Whoa, hang on, high school?" If he had gone straight into the service after high school, he either already had a long military career or…"How old are you?"

"I turned twenty-one this year."

Holy crap. Dean had been six years old when Cas was born. Just by looking at his eyes you would think that he was much, much older than that. But now that Dean actually sat back and looked at Castiel's face, there was a definite youthfulness around those old-soul eyes. And for whatever reason, the new information made Dean even more nervous. What was a twenty-eight year old mechanic with a G.E.D doing talking to a twenty-one year old war hero? Shit.

Maybe seeing a sudden hesitance in Dean's eyes, Castiel tilted his head to the side. "If I may ask, how old are you?"

"Uh, twenty-eight."

Castiel blinked and though his expression didn't change, Dean could almost sense a surprise roll off of him. "Oh. How old is your brother?"

"Sam's twenty-five, but he's been doing more with himself than I have…Wait," a frown slipped onto Dean's face, "how did you know I have a brother?"

Again Dean could almost _feel_ the change in Castiel's emotions, this time a quick burst of apprehension. "I, overheard, at the bar last night. I apologize for bringing it up, I hadn't meant to eavesdrop."

"No problem." The real problem was that Dean couldn't remember ever talking about Sam at the bar, or saying that Sam was his brother. Maybe Castiel had heard him and Ellen talking and had just assumed—freakishly accurately—that he and Sam were brothers. But who the hell knew? Dean bragged about Sammy all the time, something probably popped out last night without Dean even realizing it. Besides, he had better questions to ask. "It's not like I can blame you for eavesdropping when you joined in the fight with me. What made you jump in anyway?"

Dean was genuinely curious. Castiel didn't look like the type to get riled easily and the idea that he would run into a fight for a stranger didn't feel right. Castiel just looked at him like Dean had just asked why people breathe air. "I'm not entirely certain myself. I felt I should protect you."

And now Dean felt like a damsel in distress. Great. Laughing away his embarrassment, Dean shook his head. "Usually I'd be insulted but even I have to admit that I needed some help last night." Okay, usually Dean would be more than insulted. Usually he'd have to fight off the urge to punch any guy who even so much as insinuated that Dean was anything less than fully capable of taking care of himself, but hearing it from Castiel was somehow alright.

"It was no trouble. I was running on instinct, though it ran counter to my usual nature, and I'm just relieved that it worked out as well as it did."

"It definitely could've been worse. Ellen could've pulled out her shotgun." Dean laughed again, this time more from the heart. It was then that the waitress came around to take their orders and their conversation fell away to your basic small talk.

It was almost comfortable, but as the minutes wore on and their plates began to empty, an anxiety began to build up in Dean. Finally, he and Castiel were both done with their food and Dean couldn't keep himself quiet any longer.

"Hey, Cas—Can I call you Cas?" 'Castiel' just seemed too, too something. A nickname was definitely required.

Castiel's head tilted to the side and a small, amused smile touched on his lips as he pushed his plate away. "I…suppose."

"Alright, Cas. Listen, do you want to come over to my place tomorrow for dinner? I don't know if you're heading out of town or what, but my brother's girlfriend makes a mean pot roast." Dean really wished someone would've knocked him out again so that didn't come out of his mouth. But just like yesterday the thought of Castiel leaving sent Dean's mind into a panic. It was almost felt like he was about to lose a family member and, Jesus, Dean couldn't just let him walk away, even if he had no idea why.

But Castiel didn't seem caught off guard. In fact, he almost seemed relieved. "I'm sure I could convince Gabriel to stay one more day. Thank you, I appreciate the offer very much."

"Great!" Holy shit, Dean hadn't expected the guy to actually agree to come. "Um, here." Grabbing a napkin and the pen that had been left on their table to sign the check with, Dean scribbled down a few lines and passed it back across the table. "My address. If you show up around seven, I should definitely be back from work by then."

"Of course. It's the small white house on the corner, right?"

"No—well, sort of. It was white a real long time ago but my Dad and I repainted it green when I was eight."

Castiel blinked then nodded uncertainly. "Right. I will be there around seven then. Thank you again, Dean."

Folding up the address, Castiel put it in the pocket of his trench coat, then with a small smile stood and walked out. Dean followed him with his gaze, watched him step out of the diner and move down the street, his head tilting up to look at the overcast sky. Outside, in the gray light Castiel looked like he had walked into an old black and white film, except of course for his eyes. His eyes were still that haunting blue color. The same exact color as…as…

Realization hit Dean like a brick. He remembered where he knew that color from. Where he knew that face, that figure—where he remembered _Castiel_ from. But, it couldn't be. There was _no way_. No way…

But the similarities were freaking uncanny. Even if Dean's memories had been skewed with age, it was just too much to call a coincidence. Castiel looked _exactly_ like Jimmy, James Novak. That's where he remembered the name 'Novak' from, that was Jimmy's last name! But James Novak had just been Dean's imaginary friend from when he was a kid, hadn't he? Dean hadn't thought about him—it?—for years and years. And now suddenly a carbon copy of Jimmy was walking around town! What the hell was going on?

Jumping out of his seat, Dean ran to the door of the diner but by the time he threw the door open, Castiel had disappeared off the main street. Swearing, a rush of air slipped from Dean's lungs as he leaned against the doorframe, wondering if he had just invited a ghost into his house.


	3. Chapter 3

Wow, a lot more people reviewed for the second part! Thank you so much to everyone who favorited the story, and more thanks to everyone who reviewed: ramen-is-my-goddess, Silver Mirror, ChaosGarden, DEM0N Hunter, xelloss100, fluidsxcore, nannon, Sexy-Tacos-Emo-Waffles, liliwick the WORD, Meliez, and Alpha Kan't Spell! This was supposed to only be a three-parter, but it looks like there's one more part coming after this. I hope you enjoy! ^_^

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Part III

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The rest of the day passed as a blur, Dean hardly noticing the light fading from the sky after he had gone back to the scrapyard. Nerves thrumming with a jumbled energy, he slipped in the mud twice but paid it little mind. In fact, he probably wouldn't have even noticed when it was time for him to leave if Bobby hadn't come up and thwacked him on the back of his head. And he probably wouldn't have even noticed _that_ if Bobby's blow hadn't landed on the lump left over from getting bashed by a whiskey bottle.

"_Ow!_ What the hell, Bobby? I'm healing! Jesus!"

Bobby didn't even have the good grace too look apologetic. "You're also thirty minutes late for leaving. If you're healing, get yourself home, ya idjit."

And that had been that. Bobby had all but dragged Dean back to the Impala when Dean seemed to be having trouble figuring out which way the exit was, shoving him into the car with a short growl to take better care of himself. Truth be told Dean was glad Bobby had kicked him out; not only did he probably need some rest, but he _really_ needed to talk to Sam.

Dean's heart sunk a bit in his chest as he pulled up to the house and saw that Sam's car was missing from the driveway. But then he looked over and saw that the lights were on inside. Right. Jess worked late today and borrowed Sam's pansy-ass car, and that the lights on meant that maybe Sammy actually was home! Thank God something went right today.

Bursting in through the front door, Dean barely waited for Sam to glance up from the couch before practically yelling at him, "Sam! Do you remember Jimmy?"

"Uh," setting his laptop down on the cushion next to him, Sam blinked up in surprise as Dean all but slammed the door shut behind him. He had already changed out of his lawyer suit and was now wearing more comfortable t-shirt and jeans. By the looks of it, he had probably been waiting for him to get back so they could scrounge up something to eat, but there were more pressing matters in Dean's mind right now than food. "You're going to have to be a little more specific than that."

Dean realized he was close to raving but couldn't bring himself to care. He needed answers, now. "Jimmy! He was that guy who was in our house when we were little."

Sam was looking at him now with a strange mixture of concern and confusion, his brow all pinched up and his eyes narrowed like he was trying to read Dean's mind and damn if it wasn't annoying. Trying again, Dean leaned in, resting his weight on the arm of the couch, "Alright, do you remember what happened that night, about a month after we moved in here with Dad? I know you were only like three at the time but, come on Sammy, you have to remember that."

Recognition sparked in Sam's eyes but was almost instantly covered up by a guarded expression. They never talked about what had happened that night before, treating it almost like an unspoken taboo.

"I mean, yeah…I…remember bits and pieces of it." Dean silently urged Sam on with his eyes and his younger brother heaved a sigh and continued. "I, remember that guy," Sam paused, reaching deep back into his memories, "I remember him breaking in…and Dad wasn't home. I remember being so fucking scared as we hid in the cupboards, and then he pulled you out. I remember…I remember thinking that you were going to die."

Dean could see that this was hard for Sam—as it should be, it had been damned traumatizing—but needed Sammy to remember what happened next too, if only to prove that Dean wasn't completely off his rocker. "Do you know how we got out of there? What made that guy leave?"

"I…" Sam's brow pinched up again and he shook his head, "I know something must've happened but, what I do remember, doesn't make any sense."

"Tell me anyway, Sammy."

At Dean's demand, Sam threw his hands up into the air in frustration. "Fine! Alright! What I think happened, what I can remember, is the guy…the guy freaking flying out of the house. And then—"

All of a sudden Sam's voice cut off and his eyes widened in dazed understanding, the creases smoothing from his brow. Whatever memories he had repressed had apparently surfaced and Dean waited impatiently as his brother tried to process what his mind was now telling him. "…Jimmy. You, you always called it Jimmy…" Sam's head snapped up and he stared up at Dean in shock. "Jimmy was real?"

Thank God. Dean had been asking the same exact question for the last couple of hours now but if Sam remembered the same things that Dean did from that night, it must have actually happened. And it meant Dean wasn't crazy. "Yeah, Jimmy…apparently was real. But that's definitely not the strange part in all of this."

Sam looked at Dean like he had grown a second head. "How can that not be the strange part?"

"Last night at the Roadhouse I met Jimmy, or like an exact freaking copy." Sam gaped at him and Dean continued on, just letting everything pour out. "I swear to God, Sam, it's him. He looks the same, he sounds the same, he, he gives off the same feel—the only difference is that Cas is solid and that Jimmy was transparent."

"Okay, wait, hold on a minute. Cas? Is that the guy's name?"

"Yeah, but remember how Jimmy's full name was James Novak?"

Sam seemed a little shell-shocked now, his reply almost robotic. "That's what Dad told us…He said a James Novak used to own the home."

"Cas—Castiel's last name is fucking Novak too! They have the same last name!"

"Maybe they're related?"

The answer felt half-assed even to Sam and Dean quickly cut it down. "Related? They're the same exact person!"

"Come on, Dean." Sam's rational brain was clearly trying to accept what Dean was saying. "Even if everything else is true, they can't be the _same _person. The real James Novak died when you were six years old. This Castiel guy can't literally be the same person—"

"Not physically, but, what if…" Dean's voice trailed off as he tried to put his thoughts into some sort of comprehensive form, "what if, they had the same, the same soul or whatever?"

"You…mean like reincarnation?"

"Okay, it sounds stupid when you put it like that, but yeah. Essentially. Reincarnation."

The word hung in the air between them for a long moment before Sam leaned back in his seat. Releasing a long sigh, he ran his fingers through his hair, "I guess…if ghosts are real…hell, why not reincarnation?"

There was another moment of silence but Dean had to break it. "We're not…both totally nuts, are we?"

Sammy raised his brows, like he was actually fucking thinking about it. "…Probably not. The likelihood of us both having the same delusion is slim…But who knows, I'm not a psychologist. It's probably best if we don't go around telling everyone about this either way."

"No shit."

"Honestly, I'm kind of glad Jess is at work right now. Until we get this figured out…" Sammy went quiet again before he shook his head. "This is…a lot to take in. But all I can think of is that I really need to see this Castiel guy."

Oh, good reminder. "Great, because I invited him over for dinner tomorrow."

"_What_?" Sam sat back up with his bitch face on, "Wow, thanks for checking in with me first about that."

"Shut up. I was freaking out and had to get him to stay somehow."

"Well, good job I guess. Now I just need to figure out how to explain this to Jess."

OoOoOo

The next night found the Winchester household in an odd flurry of excitement. Jessica was giving both brothers a look that clearly said she thought they were both insane as she made dinner. She hadn't bought Sam's lame-ass explanation that Castiel was the son of an old family friend but she didn't ask about it, probably figuring that the two boys would tell her when they were ready. Or weren't trying so pathetically to pretend they weren't totally freaking out over whoever this guy was.

At seven o'clock, on the dot, the doorbell rang, the chime reverberating around the small house as everyone inside seemed to freeze. Then a loud bang filled the air as Dean all but toppled out of his chair and ran to the front door. Pausing just long enough to run a hand through his hair, Dean schooled his face into a more nonchalant expression and reached for the handle.

He opened it to reveal a rather hesitant looking Castiel. The man blinked his blue eyes up at Dean, as if he was mildly surprised to see him waiting on the other side, "Oh. Hello, Dean. I hope I'm not intruding."

"Of course not. I asked you over didn't I?" Looking the man over, Dean had to wonder if Cas actually only had one outfit. He was still wearing that same suit and trench, as if it were a second skin, something inseparable from the rest of him. Come to think of it, didn't Jimmy wear something just like that too? Shit, Dean felt like he should be saying 'Welcome home'.

But he kept his mouth shut and just waved the pseudo-phantom in. "Uh, make yourself comfortable. Could I take your coat?"

"No, thank you. I'd…rather keep it on."

"Right."

Well, this was...weird. Cas had stepped inside and Dean had closed the door behind him but they were still standing in the entryway. During Castiel's slightly enigmatic response, his blue eyes had been scanning the living room. But it wasn't like he was curious—no, Cas's face was drawn up in a small frown, like he was confused. Like he was looking for something that wasn't there.

"Hey, you alright?"

Castiel's head jerked back so that he was looking straight into Dean's eyes, a startled flush lighting his pale cheeks. "I'm fine." It was obvious that things were far from fine, but Dean wasn't going to call him on it. If Cas was half as confused as Dean was about all of this, he really didn't deserve to be interrogated right now. "If it's possible, I would like to see Sam. Is he home?"

Before Dean could even holler back into the kitchen, Sam poked his head out. The bastard had totally been eavesdropping. Dean nodded for him to come over and Sam cautiously made his way over, obviously trying to act casual and not openly stare at their guest. Castiel probably wouldn't have cared anyway as he was staring right back as Sam crossed the room in a few strides thanks to his ridiculously long legs. "Um, hey. It's Castiel, right? Nice to meet you, I'm Sam Winchester, Dean's brother."

Cas nodded, blue eyes boring into Sam's face, the confused crease never leaving his brow. "It's, nice to meet you as well. You're…taller than I had anticipated."

Dean had to laugh at that, causing Castiel to blush again. He looked flustered now, almost lost, and as Sam looked on wondering what he should do Dean finally took pity on him. Shaking his head, Dean clapped Cas on the shoulder, trying to put him more at ease, "I agree with you one hundred percent. Sammy is way too tall for his own good."

Sam leveled a weak glare at his brother but couldn't bring himself to be too mad as the comment eased some of the awkwardness that hung heavy in the air. "Shut up, Dean. Ignore him, Castiel. Jessica, my girlfriend, just finished making dinner. We'd love it if you could join us."

Looking from Sam's earnest smile—almost flawlessly hiding a minor freak-out—to Dean's beseeching eyes, Cas gave a stiff nod. "That's very kind of you, thank you."

Together the three of them walked through the small house, down the hall, and into the kitchen. On the way Dean caught Sam's gaze once or twice, the brothers sharing hundreds of silent words in a single glance, while Cas continued to look around. Dean couldn't tell if the other man was panicked, nervous, worried or what, but no matter what it was Castiel still managed to offer Jess a small, strained smile and a nod as they made it over to the table.

Jess, bless her heart, smiled brightly back as she set the last plate on the table. "Hi, you must be Castiel. I hope pot roast is fine. Dean pretty much insisted on it last night when he told me we were going to have company over."

Dean rolled his eyes as he ushered a misplaced-looking Castiel into a seat. "You're making me sound like a jerk."

"Good, she's telling the truth then." Sam's words were softened by the teasing smirk on his face as he sat down next to Jessica, across the table from Dean and Cas.

Cas glanced from Dean to Sam, then back to Dean again before he seemed to remember that he had been asked a question and turned to Jessica. "Ah, pot roast is fine. I apologize if my coming over on such short notice was an inconvenience."

Jess shook her head with another smile. "It's no trouble at all. It's rare that these two have guests come over. Sam mentioned that your family knew theirs when they were little?"

Almost choking on the bite of meat he had put in his mouth, Dean's head snapped up to find Sammy staring back at him, knowing that they had just been caught in a lie. Eyes flying to Castiel, Dean watched anxiously as his surprised expression morphed into one of understanding. Wait, what? "In a way, yes, though I hadn't realized they were aware. My uncle, James Novak, lived in this house with his wife and daughter. I believe the Winchesters purchased the property from them."

Now Dean was back to staring at Sam, but this time it was in shock as he tried to digest this new chunk of information. So Cas was James Novak—Jimmy's nephew? That explained the last name, but even if he was Jimmy's son, Cas still shouldn't have looked so similar. Those eyes couldn't just be the result of a recessive gene.

Sam found his voice first, trying to keep his tone light, "So Castiel, did you spend any time here when you were a kid? Before your aunt and uncle moved out I mean."

"No. My family lives on the East Coast. This is actually the first time I have come to this part of the country myself, though Gabriel, my brother, has been out here for his show before."

Not to mention that Cas wasn't even born by the time the Novaks moved out of this house, but if he wasn't going to mention it neither would Dean. But if Castiel hadn't even ever been in the state before, how had he known that their house had been 'the white one on the corner'? And why was he looking around like he'd already been inside? Dean thought he would be able to get some answers tonight but if anything the questions just kept piling up.

Mind swimming, Dean did his best to act normal, to do his part to hold a conversation that Sam and Castiel were also forcing themselves to be a part of. He could tell that Jess was picking up on their discomfort but she was the real hero of the evening, simply continuing to pick up the slack and make the meal an almost pleasant affair.

By the end of dinner Dean had learned that Gabriel, the brother Dean had seen at the bar, was a magician by trade, much to the chagrin of their serious-minded family, and would spend nearly half of every year on the road. Castiel also had a brother named Michael, who was apparently a high ranking officer in the Army, a sister Anna who had served as an Army medic for three years, and another older brother Cas called Luce who was part of a Special Ops team. After first Dean had been wondering why someone like Castiel would travel around with someone like Gabriel but after hearing about his other siblings, Gabriel was probably the best option out of the bunch. But he still wasn't any closer to figuring out what was going on between them. Other than his appearance, personality, clothing, and last name, Castiel seemed to have absolutely no connection to this town or this house.

Dean and Sam both tried to wheedle answers out of the stiff young man but came up short. By the time their plates were all empty Dean and Sam could only exchange exasperated looks. Dean couldn't tell if Cas actually didn't know anything about it and he was just a weird guy or if he was hiding something from them. Either way, just like Sam and Dean, Castiel seemed to be getting knocked more and more off-kilter as the meal continued and when Jess and Sam began to take dishes up to the table the man's face had paled a few shades.

Concerned and fighting back the unwelcome instinct to coddle another fully grown man, Dean pushed himself up and walked over to the sink where Jess was just getting ready to clean up. "Since you cooked, it's only fair I take care of the dishes."

Jessica blinked up at him, probably shocked that he had actually offered to do housework, then grinned. "If you insist, I'm not about to try to convince you otherwise."

Dean glanced over his shoulder as he heard Cas pushing his chair back and watched as he rose to his feet. Visually he was just a little pale but Dean could tell—_feel?—_that the other was only a short step away from completely flipping out. "A-Allow me to help you…"

Dean shared a cautious look with Sam before pasting on what he hoped was a comforting smile. "Don't worry about it Cas. You're a guest, I'm not gonna make you work."

The blue in Cas's eyes seemed to intensify, his jaw tightening as he watched Dean work. Then, as Dean reached down to the cabinet where they kept the dish soap, the tension in the room finally snapped.

Castiel jerked forward as if he had been electrocuted, "Dean, _wait! _Don't!" Lurching forward, he dove for Dean's arm, his fingers wrapping tight as steel around his wrist. As Dean looked up again he found Cas's blue eyes, wide and wild, staring desperately into his. "Don't open it. Please."

As strong as his grip was on Dean's arm, Dean felt him shaking, Cas's pulse pounding against his skin. Looking back down at the cabinet, Dean was suddenly hit with a memory long-since buried. This was the same cabinet he and Sammy had hid in, the night of the robbery. Cas's reaction was just too bizarre to be a coincidence. He and Sam weren't crazy. Something was definitely going on, and now Dean knew without a doubt that Cas felt it too.

Releasing the handle on the cabinet, Dean moved his hand to rest on Castiel's arm before looking back at the other two left in the kitchen, both watching the exchange with concern heavy in their eyes. "Hey, Sammy, Jess. Can you give us a minute?"

Sam hesitated, his brow furrowing, "Everything okay?"

Dean could only shrug. "I'll let you know." Castiel's shaking grew worse and Dean knew that it was time that they sat down and tried to talk this mess out. "You two wait out in the living room, alright?"

Again Sam seemed to hesitate but Jess, reacting to the spark of determination in Dean's eyes, gave a gentle tug on Sam's elbow, slowly urging him from the room. Dean knew that Sam could've stayed, would've probably understood what was happening better than he was able to, but for some reason Dean felt like this was something between him and Cas, something meant to be private.

Left alone in the kitchen, silent now saved for Castiel's heavy breathing, their grips slowly loosened on each other. Then, just as slowly, Cas ran his hands over his face as his knees seemed to give out. Slumping down against the cabinet door, his fingers slid up through his hair, gripping hard at the dark strands as if trying to keep his brain from bursting out. "I don't understand it. What's happening to me?"

"Hey, Cas, take it easy." Kneeling down next to him, Dean ran a hand over Cas's back, just as Cas had done to them the first night they met after the fight. "Listen, none of this makes any sense to me either. But we can figure this out together, right?"

Castiel shook his head but maybe even subconsciously leaned into his hand, seemingly desperate for a reassuring touch. "I don't know, Dean. I really don't know. I have, I have memories in my head that aren't _mine_. For years now I'd had them, and I, I thought they were just dreams, but then I met you and I feel like I _know_ you. Like I know you and Sam, your family, this house."

Hearing a rising panic in the other's deep voice, Dean interrupted with a sigh, "I don't know if it makes you feel any better, but the feeling's mutual."

A short, dry noise slipped past Castiel's lips and Dean realized it had been a laugh. "As unnerving as it is, I suppose it is a little comforting…"

"Listen, Cas," Starting hesitantly, Dean took a moment to sit down on the tiled floor and leaned back against the cabinets, "I have, this theory about what's going on. And I'm probably going to sound like a psychopath, but I swear to God I'm not crazy."

He felt Cas's back twitch a little under his palm at the slight blaspheme and it was then that Dean wondered if Castiel was religious and if that would make a difference to how he'd take Dean's theory. It was then that Dean also realized that he still had his hand resting against Cas's back but he couldn't work up enough incentive to move it.

"At this point, there is little you could say that I would immediately dismiss as implausible."

Dean was pretty sure Cas wasn't going to feel that way in half a second. "Alright, don't say I didn't warn you. But, Sam and I were talking and what we ended up with was, well…how do you feel about the idea of reincarnation?"

There was a short pause before slowly Cas lifted his face from his hands, his head tilting to the side as if he were really thinking Dean's words through. "…Are you suggesting that, that I am someone reborn?"

"Jimmy, er, your Uncle James, to be specific. I haven't told anyone about this, ever, but when we were kids…" Dean paused, trying to figure out what to say, "when we were kids, Sam and I met your uncle, sort of. Looking back on it, I'm pretty sure it was his ghost, but the point is, Cas, is that you look, act, hell, you even dress exactly like this guy." Looking at Castiel's face, blue eyes narrowed in careful thought, Dean knew he had struck a chord. "Maybe, maybe you feel like you know this place, know _us_, because you've lived through it—metaphorically speaking—just not as Castiel."

"I…don't know, Dean." Rubbing his hand over his face again, Castiel suddenly looked exhausted, probably having exceeded his yearly emotional quota hours ago. "Something like that—it is a lot to accept. Until seven months ago, I thought I was just having vivid dreams. But then I saw you at the bar two nights ago and now whenever I'm struck with the prospect of having to leave I become more apprehensive than when I was deployed. I'm…" Cas heaved a weary, frustrated sigh, "I'm just tired. I thought coming here would bring me some relief, but now I don't even know what to believe anymore…"

As Castiel's voice trailed off, Dean understood just how drained the other actually was. He looked confused, overwhelmed, and absolutely exhausted. "Hey, it's not just you taking this on alone anymore, alright? I'm just as freaked out as you are, but we'll make sense out of this somehow. But not tonight." Cas blinked up at him, head tilting again, and Dean had to smirk. "Tonight I think we both had best get some rest and tackle this thing again in the morning. You look like you've had enough for one day and my brain feels like it's going to leak out of my ears, so I don't think we really should start unravel any supernatural mysteries."

"That…may be a wise course of action. So tomorrow—"

"I have tomorrow off of work so how about you come over here again in the afternoon." If Dean played his cards right, he could probably convince Sam to take the day off too. Jess was working again tomorrow but it would be nice if they had someone to watch their backs. "Can you make it?"

His answer was instantaneous, "Of course. Gabriel is starting to get frustrated but I will make him understand. Either that or I will make another excuse to make him willing to stay longer."

Castiel offered Dean a tight smile which Dean quickly returned. For what may have been the first time, he knew he wasn't looking at Jimmy but a unique someone else. The blue eyes staring up at him might've been similar but it was definitely Cas looking back at him, a twenty-one-year-old young man just as desperate for answers as Dean was. And that made Dean even more determined to get to the bottom of this mess they were in.

OoOoOo

After letting Cas just rest on their kitchen floor before gathering the strength to get back on his feet, Dean had walked him back through the house to the front door. Sam and Jess had politely waited for Cas to offer Dean another tight smile, a small blush, and a promise to return the next day, before barraging Dean with questions as soon as the door closed behind their guest. While Dean and Cas had been in the kitchen, Sam had apparently spilled everything to Jess who took it all in with remarkable ease, considering. Apparently if Sam believed it that was enough to convince Jess not to call a mental hospital to come and pick them up.

When Dean told them what had happened and that Cas was coming back the next day, Sam had just stared at him, his bitch face at having been excluded slowly melting into a determined frown. He had immediately promised to take the next day off and they spent the next seven minutes trying to convince Jess that there was no reason she should waste her very limited vacation time. There was a very good chance that nothing was going to happen anyway.

She had finally relented and the rest of the night passed with them trying to wind down from the night's events. It didn't work too well and after an hour of pretending that he was alright, Dean resorted to splitting a six pack of beer with Sammy just so that his muscles would relax.

Dean woke up the next morning sprawled across the couch, still dressed in his jeans and t-shirt, with a blanket thrown on top of him and the smell of coffee drifting out of the kitchen. Jess must've turned on the coffee maker on before she left for work. That woman was a saint.

Peeling himself off of the upholstery, Dean lazily ran his fingers through his hair as he stood. He could hear the shower running and knew Sam must've gotten up a few minutes ago himself. In a calculated move, Dean made his way down the hall, past the bathroom, and into the kitchen, downing two mugs full of coffee before Sasquatch got his hands on it.

When Sam finally shuffled in, wet hair hanging around his face, he scowled as he saw the nearly-empty coffee pot. "Wow, way to be a jerk, Dean."

Dean smirked back, feeling more awake now that there was caffeine flowing through his veins. "Someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed today."

"Can you blame me? Yesterday I woke up only worried if I could get my case filed on time. Today I woke up questioning my religious beliefs and whether there is life after death! And you're too much of a bastard to even save me a full cup of coffee that _my_ girlfriend made for us to share."

Dean rolled his eyes, "Quit bitching at me and be glad I left anything. Besides, I fully expect to be the one who gets thrown under the bus with this whole Castiel thing today, so I need all the help I can get."

Sammy grumbled under his breath before stalking over to the cupboard and pulling out another mug. Dean just smirked into his coffee at his brother's behavior but kept quiet, not wanting to bug Sam too much when he was sacrificing a day's paycheck to save Dean from a major freak-out. Not enough to share his coffee, but enough not to harass him to his usual extent.

A few minutes passed by as Sammy downed his cup, Dean leaning against the counter to wait for him to finish. Finally, after draining every last drop of liquid from his mug, Sam set it on the table. There was another long pause and Sam shook his head, "What are we even going to do today when Cas comes over?"

Dean noticed Sam borrowing his nickname for Castiel but didn't call him on it. Instead, he tried to work a plan out in his head but wasn't surprised when he came up blank. "We'll figure it out, Sammy. Cas and I will work something out."

Sam gave Dean a funny look from across the kitchen and Dean frowned back. "What?"

"Nothing, it's just…it's strange. Good strange, but strange, seeing how fast you and Cas bonded. You usually don't get this worked up about anyone, well, other than me I guess. And he seems pretty attached to you already."

Dean didn't like Sam's tone and tossed a glare over at him to tell him so. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Well, you know…" Dean continued to glare and Sam shifted on his feet, suddenly seeming uneasy.

Feeling like he was missing something important, Dean just got more irritated. "Spit it out, Sammy."

With a harsh sigh, Sam finally seemed to break as the words burst past his lips, "Dude, he was totally smitten for you. He couldn't take his eyes off you."

What the hell? "Okay, first off, no one uses the word 'smitten' anymore, Sam. Second, of course he was staring at me. I was staring at him. This whole thing is messed up, we're just both trying to figure everything out."

Sam put his hands up, as if trying to soothe Dean's temper. "I get it, I do, but even given the circumstances, he was still staring at you a lot and blushed like seven times."

Sam stared up at Sammy like he was crazy, which was true because he must've just lost his mind. "'Given the circumstances?' Are you already so jaded about the whole reincarnation thing?"

Sam frowned back at him, "I was just trying to warn you. Usually you get all, well, frankly you get a little homophobic, Dean. You seem to like the guy so I thought I'd tell you before you found out the hard way and freaked out."

"Hey, don't, don't talk about Cas like that. Even if he is gay—which I'm still not sold on—I don't see _him_ falling for _me_."

Whatever Sam heard suddenly stopped him in his metaphorical tracks, his eyes suddenly widening as if someone had just told him the secret to the universe. "Huh."

Trying to figure out what he had said that would make Sam react like that, Dean continued to glare. "What?"

Sam shook his head at Dean's question, "Nothing…Just a thought."

"Well stop thinking so much, it makes me nervous."

Any retort that Sammy had for that was cut off by the sound of a loud pounding on the door. Sam started in surprise as Dean pushed himself off of the counter with a stormy look. That was way too early to be Cas, and he wouldn't knock like that anyway.

Feeling grimy still from sleeping on the couch but really not enough to do anything about it, Dean made his way to the front door, still worked up from what Sam had been saying. He sort of wished he had stopped at the bathroom long enough to splash some water on his face though when he opened the door to find himself staring down at none other than a very ticked-off looking Gabriel Novak.

Seeing Dean's face didn't seem to improve the short man's mood either, his scowl deepening as he shoved past Dean and marched inside.

Dean took an instant dislike to him, not in a very good mood himself, and definitely not liking getting pushed around in his own goddamn house. "Hey, what the hell?"

Hearing Dean's voice was apparently the final straw and Gabriel whipped around to glare up at his face, strangely intimidating for his size. "Exactly, what the hell? What the hell are you doing to my brother?"

Dean glanced up as Sam stepped into the front room than back down to Gabriel. "_What?_"

"Come on." Gabriel pushed into Dean's personal space, jabbing a finger into Dean's chest, "I'm an illusionist, a hypnotist, I do it all, and I know how the tricks work. I know how to convince people to think what you want them to, and right now I know that you've got Castiel eating out of the palm of your hand. So I'm going to tell you once: you're going to stop doing whatever the hell you're doing to my brother or, so help me God, I will make you."

Dean shoved Gabriel's hand away as Sam took another step closer, ready to intervene, "Hey, calm down! Now you can either relax and tell us what your problem is or you can turn around get out of my house. Your choice."

Gabriel's lip twisted up in a sneer, golden eyes flashing. Dean had only met him once before, at the bar, but somehow he knew that it wasn't often people got this far under Gabriel's skin. "Just because I'm not in the military, don't think that I'm any less dangerous than my brothers. You should show me some respect, boy."

Dean's temper flared again. No one told him what to do in his own place. "I'll show you respect when I get it."

When the only response he got was Gabriel's fist flying toward his face, Dean was so ready for it. Dodging the blow, Dean whipped out his own fist and buried in Gabriel's stomach, venting all of his frustrations into the hit. Even with all the air knocked out of him, Gabriel's reached out, gripping tight onto Dean's shirt and they both tumbled to the ground. Scrambling to regain the upper hand, Dean grunted as Gabriel landed a hit on his already abused jaw. He had sort of been expecting for this to be an easy win but now he wasn't so sure that he'd even come out on top.

Luckily, Sam was there. With a grunt, the gigantic beanpole reached down and literally grabbed Gabriel around the waist and pulled them apart. As he scrambled to his feet, Dean heard Sam mutter something about older brothers before setting a scowling Gabriel back onto his feet. Gabriel shoved him away and Sam quickly put his hands up in a peacemaking gesture, looking annoyingly amused, "How about the both of you cool it and we can talk this out like rational adults."

"Alright! Fine. Just keep your hands to yourself, you moose." With a huff, Gabriel reached up and ran his fingers through his hair to straighten it, looking entirely too unruffled as Dean fought to catch his breath. The man inhaled deeply as if trying to calm himself down, his dark expression returning as he let the breath out. "Listen up, 'cause I'm only going to say this one more time." Dean ignored the look that Gabriel leveled at him, "Castiel has issues, there's no denying it. My parents and older siblings mistakenly thought that sending him to the Air Force would solve the problem, but it clearly hasn't worked out. The fact that you are feeding off of the poor kid's delusions is disgusting—even by my standards—and I'm here to tell you that you are either going to stop or I'm going to make you stop."

Forcing himself to push through his anger in order to actually get through to Castiel's older brother, Dean glowered at Gabriel as he massaged his jaw. "And I'm telling you that I haven't done anything to Cas. I don't know what you know or what he's told you but—"

"—I know that he's been having dreams for his whole life about shit that he shouldn't know about. And I know that what he went through in war only made them worse to the point that when he got back he wouldn't stop bugging me until I took him out to this hellhole. He's in a delicate place right now, whether from some messed up form of PTSD or whatever mental problems he had before that, and he doesn't need some small-town hustler making it worse."

Throwing his hands up into the air, Dean had to hold himself back from launching himself back at Gabriel. "Listen, _everything is real_."

Gabriel lifted a brow, simultaneously questioning and ridiculously condescending, "Excuse me?"

"Cas's dreams, they're real, this whole thing is real! I'm not screwing around with Cas, I'm just as confused as he is!"

Sam spoke up before Dean could ramble himself into a hole, "What Dean's trying to say is that we have absolutely no intention of hurting Castiel, we're trying to help. We think, we think that Castiel has a connection with your Uncle James who used to live in this house."

Now Gabriel's attention was on Sam and Dean couldn't say he was sorry for it. The man's gaze was almost as intense as Castiel's. "What, you mean like some sort of psychic crap?"

Dean scoffed, "Wow, for an illusionist you sure are a skeptic."

And Gabriel's gaze was back on him again. Great. "Yeah, because like I said, I know how the tricks work. But you two actually believe something like that's going on here? Un-freaking-believable."

"We're not just talking some sort of 'psychic connection,' whatever the hell that even means. We're talking like full-on reincarnation. Something serious is going on and you can't be doubting your brother right now. Cas needs you, as horrible a person as you are."

Gabriel released a frustrated little noise as he ignored Dean's jab. "And what exactly do you suggest? Don't you think I'd do anything for my kid brother, that I haven't tried everything I can think of already?"

"Obviously you need to start thinking out of the box."

"Well you guys would be the two freaks to go to then, wouldn't you, with your 'theory' of reincarnation? If that's the best you got, sorry, but your best isn't good enough."

Again Sam had to speak up before Dean said something he would regret. "It sounds crazy, we know, but if you really have tried everything else already, what harm could it do to just work with us? If we're wrong, then you get to leave town and never see us again but if by some miracle we're right, then you'll have the answer you've been looking for. Don't the potential benefits outweigh the costs?"

Gabriel stared at Sam, long and hard, as if peering deep into his soul as Sammy's words hung in the air and he made use of those wide puppy eyes of his. Dean knew first hand that those eyes could melt even a stone-cold heart so wasn't too surprised when Gabriel finally folded.

Crossing his arms over his chest, the auburn-haired man pursed his lips. "…If I were to agree with you, what would that even entail? If you seriously think Castiel is Uncle James reborn or whatever the hell you claim, how do you think you're going to prove it?"

As Sam floundered, Dean stepped back in. "We're working on it. But this is just as important to me as it is to Cas. I'm pretty sure that whatever's going on in Cas's head is the key to figuring out what the hell is going on. Maybe if we talk it out, we can put something together."

Gabriel still didn't look happy but the more he thought about it, the more he seemed to grudgingly accept the Winchester's plan of action. Dean looked over at Sam, his resolve strengthening at the sight of the assurance in Sammy's eyes, and the two waited as patiently as they could for Gabriel to answer back.

Dean was just about sure that Gabriel had forgotten that they were there when the older man finally spoke. "…Castiel said he was coming back here today, which was why I came over in the first place. I'm not just going to leave him to deal with you two wackos alone now that I know what you're up to, but…" sighing, Gabriel finally looked up and met their eyes. His glare was gone, now replaced with a gaze filled with a reluctant determination, "If you want to get in his head…I might be able to help you with that. You learn a few tricks in my line of work."

Blinking in surprise at the unexpected cooperation, Dean could just nod. "Alright. Great." Now they had Gabriel in on it to, and had the beginnings of what was almost seemed like a plan. "Now all we're missing is Cas."


	4. Chapter 4

Alright, this is the fourth and final part of my mini-story! I meant to get this done by Friday but the dreaded "real life" popped up and took up my writing time. For future reference, if you ever want to know what's taking me so long, I usually give some explanation (aka: excuse) on my Livejournal (accessible via the "homepage" link on my author's page). Thank you so much to everyone who reviewed: ramen-is-my-goddess, supreme dramon, xelloss100, ChaosGarden, Silver Mirror, daniidomene, Alpha Kan't Spell, and Sexy-Tacos-Emo-Waffles! Thank you everyone for giving this story a chance, I hope you like the ending! ^_^

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Part IV

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Since he was already at the Winchesters' house and not the type to wait for anything, Gabriel pulled his cell phone from his pocket and called Castiel up less than five minutes after agreeing to join forces with the Winchester brothers. Dean couldn't hear Cas's side of the conversation but from Gabriel's reaction he seemed to be more than a little wary of the older Novak's presence at the house. Nonetheless, fifteen minutes later Dean heard a firm knock on their door.

Dean barely had it open before Castiel slipped inside, his lips pressed in a thin line and blue eyes flashing. For the first time he seemed nearly oblivious to Dean as his gaze immediately locked on his brother who was currently slouched down on the couch next to Sam. "Gabriel, why did you come here?"

Gabriel just smirked, hiding all the uncertainty he had let slip with Sam and Dean behind a mask of cocky bravado that just seemed to rile Cas up more. "In all honesty I came to put the fear of God into these two, but after landing a few punches I decided that we might as well work together to figure out what's going on in that messed-up head of yours."

Dean watched as Cas's hands fisted at his side and walked up beside the younger man to lend some silent support. "Thank you for your _concern_, Gabe, but I'd rather you just leave if your only intention here is to abuse us. Even if you claim to be here to help, I am aware of your opinions concerning my mental health and I don't think my current attempt to understand my condition is something that you'd be willing to support."

Lifting a brow, Gabriel finally pushed himself off of the couch, walking across the room to face his brother more directly. "You mean that whole reincarnation thing?" Castiel's eyes widened only a fraction but Dean noticed it and Gabriel noticed it. "Oh yeah, I heard about that whole thing and I think you're all nuts but…" Gabriel heaved a belabored sigh, "as much as I occasionally wish I could, I'm not just going to abandon my flesh and blood. If this is what you feel you need to do, then I'm going to support you to the best of my willing ability."

By this point Sam too was on his feet, the four of them all gathered in the entryway and watching as Cas and Gabe stared each other down. Finally Castiel's brow drew up before he gave a slight tilt of his head. "You are truly here to help me? Even given my current theory of the source of my false memories?"

Gabriel actually seemed to think it over for a minute before reaching up and clapping Cas on the shoulder. "I'm actually here to help—I am _now _anyway—even if you are bat-shit crazy."

Rolling his eyes, Dean put a hand on the small of Cas's back and guided him away from Gabe and toward the couch their brothers had recently vacated. "I'm getting real tired of you real fast."

"But unfortunately you need my help."

That caught Castiel's attention and he turned his head to look back at Gabriel even as Dean pushed him down into his seat. He seemed concerned again. "How exactly are you intending to help?"

Before Gabriel could answer back, Sam—ever the peacemaker—spoke up first. "From what Dean told me last night, the two of you agreed that it would be best to try and delve deeper into those dreams you've had." Sam's eyes met Dean's to confirm and Dean sent his brother back a small nod. A little more confident now, Sammy continued. "When we explained the situation to Gabriel, he offered his services as a…a…"

Gabriel finally broke in as Sam floundered with what to call him, "As a hypnotist."

Dean almost laughed at the blank stare Castiel sent Gabe's way. "Really?"

It was Gabriel's turn to roll his eyes. "Yes, 'really'. Don't give me that look. As much as I don't want to see into that little soldier's brain of yours, don't think that means I can't."

Castiel frowned before his gaze slowly drifted back to Dean. As their eyes connected again, protective green meeting stormy blue, Dean felt a jolt run through him as he remembered Sam's words from earlier that morning. Looking at the flashes of emotions rolling through Cas's eyes, Dean searched for any sign of attraction, of the physical attraction Sammy claimed he saw on Cas's face last night.

When Dean actually found it himself, it nearly knocked the air right out of him. Beneath the confusion, the fear, the determination in Cas's eyes Dean saw a shy sort of lust that really should _not _have been that sexy on a dude. Holy shit. Cas was totally smitten for him. Though "smitten" was still a really stupid word.

"Dean!"

Snapping out of his thoughts, Dean's head whipped around to glare at Sam as he fought down an embarrassed flush at having been caught staring at another guy's eyes for what felt like an hour. "_What_?"

"Dude, we've been talking to you for the past couple of minutes. Pay attention."

Of course Dean had to deny it. "I _have_ been paying attention."

Sammy's lips quirked up in an infuriating, knowing little smile. "In that case, what do you think?"

Crap. Sammy knew he hadn't been paying attention, he didn't have to call him on it in front of Cas and Gabe. Looking back as Castiel, Dean realized by his expectant expression that it had probably been Cas himself who had asked Dean a question and Dean couldn't bring himself to just make up an answer. "…Fine, I was zoning out. What'd you ask?"

If anything, Cas seemed to relax at Dean's stupidity, the rigidity in his shoulders loosening. "I asked if you thought that this would really help. As my condition was originally your theory, do you think this is the best course of action?"

Dean looked up at him before releasing a short breath, "Hell if I know for sure, but it makes the most sense to me right now. Cas, I really do think you and Jimmy are connected somehow, and your dreams are definitely no coincidence, so maybe letting Gabe there poke around in your memories a little might at least give us a new lead."

Despite Dean's lackluster response, Castiel seemed to gain some confidence from his words. A minute passed and Cas just stared straight into his eyes, something Dean was becoming more and more used to, then Cas forced his eyes up and over onto his brother. "Very well. Since you appear to legitimately want to help, I would be…grateful for your assistance, Gabe."

"Now that's more like it." A smirk was back on Gabriel's face as he came around the couch and stood next to Dean. There was a new seriousness sparking in his golden eyes though, a hint of professionalism that caught Dean off guard. "So basically what I'm going to do is put you in a trance-like state, but to do it right you need to be completely willing for this to happen, got it?"

"I understand. Are we doing this now then?"

Hearing—more than that, _sensing_—unease building up in Cas, Dean leaned forward. "Do _you_ want to do this now? We can wait if you need to psyche yourself up."

Gabriel cut in with a drawl, "Yeah, maybe you want to watch a movie, have some tea and biscuits, and I can just sit here on my ass waiting for you to grow a spine and agree to take short nap."

Dean was about to verbally rip Gabe a new one but Castiel opened his mouth first as he frowned up at his older brother. "If I am truly a reincarnation of Uncle James, which seems more and more probable given the nature of my dreams—my memories, I have little doubt that allowing you even the slightest access into my subconscious could be a very…difficult experience for me."

The older Novak's smirk softened just slightly, enough to make him look mildly concerned about Castiel's comfort. "Hey, you think that if I thought this would be dangerous I would've let these bozos convince me to join in?"

Dean and Sam both scowled over at Gabriel but more of the tension melted from Castiel's shoulders. Clutching his hands together in his lap, Cas gave a small nod, "No, I suppose not. But you are certain nothing you do will have a negative effect?"

Not waiting for Gabe to come back with another joke, Dean moved up to sit next to Castiel on the couch. "Don't worry, Cas, me and Sammy will make sure he doesn't do anything funny." And Dean meant it. He was going to be watching Gabriel like a hawk. While he was doing them a favor by helping out, Dean had barely felt comfortably letting Sam in on this. It felt like he was intruding on something intimate—not that Dean wanted to let his mind go down that road. Damn Sam and his big mouth.

But Cas just gave him a small, thankful smile—and no, that definitely wasn't helping Dean's wandering thoughts—and ignored Gabriel's protests that he knew what the hell he was doing. "Thank you."

"Great, everyone's watching out for you, we're all happy, yadda, yadda, yadda. Are we doing this or what?"

Pulling his eyes away from Dean, Cas stared up at his brother in what probably would've been exasperation had he not been so nervous. "Yes, Gabriel. We are 'doing this'. What do you need me to do?"

Gabe rolled up his sleeves and rubbed his hands together as they finally got down to business. "All you gotta do, bro, is lean back and relax. I know that's a foreign concept for you, but you'll just have to try your best."

Castiel frowned but settled back against the couch cushions, not looking at all at ease. Sammy blinked down at them, wearing a face Dean knew all too well meant he wanted to help but didn't know how. "Hey, Cas? Do you want to take your coat off for this? Maybe it'd be more comfortable for you."

Dean wanted to smack himself for not asking first. Sure Cas still looked as stiff as a board, practically drowning in that tan trench coat, but Dean hadn't even thought that the younger man would be uncomfortable with it on. It was as if it was a part of him, and by the way Castiel's eyes suddenly became guarded at Sam's question he felt the same way. "I'd rather—"

"Oh, for the love of…" Gabriel interrupted Cas with an exasperated huff of air, "I don't even care if it'll make you more comfortable or what, but you're taking the damn trench off, Castiel. You wearing it around like a security blanket is starting to weird me out now."

Sam lifted a brow at Gabriel's reaction. "Why does that weird you out?"

Snorting, Gabriel pushed past Sam and practically wrestled the tan jacket off of his reluctant younger brother. "He inherited it when Uncle James died. It was Uncle James's coat and if this actually works things will be just a little too freaky for me if he's wearing it."

Okay, now Dean didn't want Castiel wearing it either. He had thought that it had looked similar to the translucent one he had seen Jimmy wearing over twenty years ago, but he hadn't realized that it was basically the same freaking coat. Mind made up, Dean casually reached over and helped Gabriel pull the offending piece of clothing off an objecting Castiel.

Between the two of them it wasn't really even a contest and a minute later found Castiel sitting next to Dean looking practically naked in his button-down and tie while Sam went and hung his trench up in the coat closet. Gabriel looked a little too proud of himself and sat down on Cas's other side, Sammy coming back to stand beside Dean. Meanwhile Cas looked more lost than ever, his knuckles white as he pressed his clenched hands against his knees. Taking pity on the poor man—though not enough to give him back a dead man's jacket—Dean reached over and rested his hand against Castiel's hunched shoulder. "You okay? You still want to do this?"

There was a pause before Cas gave a tight nod. "I…yes, I still wish to proceed. Although I would have preferred to keep my coat on."

Gabriel grinned as he ruffled Castiel's already mussed hair. "I'm sure you would've. Now, for the last time, lean back and freaking _relax_. God, you're worse than Michael."

With a short glare at his brother, Cas grudgingly slumped back again to rest against the couch cushions. He did nothing, however, to dislodge Dean's hand on his shoulder, even leaning into it, and hell if that didn't spark a pool of warmth in Dean's stomach. "Excuse me for not finding this the most soothing of situations." Castiel let out a long breath, "This is the best I can do, so you will either be able to work with me or not."

"Alright, alright. Don't get your briefs in a bunch. Could you at least close your eyes for me? Please?"

Castiel unenthusiastically obeyed and, after his blue eyes darted to meet Dean's once more, let them flutter shut. Even though the eye contact had dropped Dean couldn't look away from Cas's face, pale skin dusted with a five o' clock shadow and brow furrowed just slightly. Dean pressed his hand a little harder against the young soldier's shoulder as he felt unease rolling off of him in waves.

His touch seemed to help a little and Gabe even offered him a quick nod of thanks before turning to fully face his brother. As Sam leaned in to watch, Dean managed to tear his eyes off of Castiel's face, focusing instead on Gabriel as he softly began to speak. That serious spark was back in his eyes, his voice low and lacking its usual snide undertones, "Alright Castiel, I need you to listen carefully to the sound of my voice and do as I say. First off, I need you relax a little more."

Cas's face scrunched up but before he could open his mouth to protest Gabriel interrupted before he could get so much as a word out, "I know you said that this is the best you got, but I'm going to help you do better. This is only going to work if you allow it to." Gabe's softer tone seemed to be winning Castiel over because he gave a small nod before he nestled a little further back into the couch. Apparently pleased with the response, Gabriel continued on. "Okay. First thing is I want you to try and slow your breathing down. Inhale a deep breath, count off five seconds, and then let it out."

Dean swore he saw Cas roll his eyes beneath his eyelids but dutifully did as he was told; sucked in a breath then let it out slowly. In and out, over and over until Gabe was apparently satisfied that the rhythm had become natural for his brother. "Good…Now, slowly let your muscles relax, starting at your toes and working your way up to your neck. Let yourself just sink back into the couch."

Despite Dean's silent predictions, after a few more minutes of Gabriel trying to work Cas over, Dean actually began to feel the muscles in the younger man's back under his palm begin to loosen. Castiel had kept up with the measured breathing and now almost seemed to be asleep, which was apparently exactly what Gabriel wanted judging by the small smirk of success on the other's lips. The smirk fell away, however, as he once again started to speak, keeping his tone soothing and low, "Can you still hear the sound of my voice?"

"…Yes." When Castiel answered back, his low voice was slow and sleepy, like he was actually in a freaking trance. It was actually kind of impressive on Gabe's part, not that Dean was going to say that out loud.

"Good. I want you to delve deep into your memories, your dreams. Do you remember them?"

"…Yes." Castiel's brow pinched together a little and Dean almost thought that he was waking up but, no, it was more like sleep-talking now. "They aren't mine…"

Seeing that his brother was getting agitated Gabriel was quick to calm him back down, using his words while Dean's hand almost subconsciously slid from Castiel's shoulder to the back of his neck. Dean let the fact that he was practically petting Cas roll off of him; he didn't like the idea that even in such a relaxed state this shit still bothered the guy. "It's alright, Castiel. Usually you try to push them away, keep them sealed in your mind, but now I want you to let them open."

"…I don't, don't want—"

"It's okay, let them open." All three of them watched, practically holding their breaths, as Castiel seemed to process this new information. Dean didn't know what he was expecting but when Cas's shoulders slowly drooped down and the crease smoothed from his brow it looked like someone had taken the weight of the world off his shoulders.

"Did you let them open?"

This time Cas only seemed capable of giving a small half-nod, but Gabriel pressed on. "Good. Now, I want you to find the dream—the memory that's the strongest. I want you to picture it as a closed room and you are standing on the other side of the door. Can you see a door, Castiel?"

Cas squirmed a little in his seat but gave another small nod. Dean tore his gaze from the scene just long enough to glance up at Sammy behind him who was watching Gabriel work with rapt fascination. Able to relate to the mix of emotions on the other's face, Dean was once again reminded how glad he was that he convinced Sammy to take the day off of work. This would've been way too weird without having Sam next to him.

Carrying on as if he didn't even notice the eyes on him, Gabe leaned forward a little, closer to Castiel, and watched his brother's face for any reaction. "Alright. Now, I'm going to count to three. I want you on number three to envision what is on the other side of that door…on two to open the door up…and on one, step inside and let it become a part of you." Cas squirmed a little more, clearly even subconsciously wary of the idea, but let out an almost inaudible sigh and relaxed again as Gabriel's countdown washed over him, each count held out for a few beats to let Castiel's mind do as it had been told. "Three…two…one…"

Dean didn't think it had worked until he physically felt the change in the other. Beneath his fingertips, Cas's skin had dropped a few degrees within a second, like the younger man had just been thrown into a walk-in freezer. Hearing Sam let out a small little strangled noise, Dean's eyes darted back up to Castiel's face to see a cloud of moisture rush past his lips on the man's next exhale. What the _hell_? "Uh, Gabe?"

"Shh." Gabriel's eyes were sharp as he stared at Cas, but if you looked closer you could see barely-concealed confusion play across his face.

"Can you hear me?"

"…Yes." Dean sucked in a breath at the sound of Castiel's voice. There was something…something different about it. It was lighter, less graveled and lacked the clipped tone gained from years of military service.

Gabriel's eyes narrowed before, after only a second of thought, they widened again as if struck with a sudden realization. "What is your name?"

"…James Novak."

Nope, that wasn't Cas anymore. Dean met Sammy's gaze and saw the same trepidation in his younger brother's eyes that was racing through him. Apparently though Gabriel was more shocked than either of them, his eyes still wide as he sat back. "Fuck, it's actually working."

Dean blinked over at him, more than just a little freaked out but doing his best to hide it, "Wait, isn't that a good thing, that it's working?" If they had broken Cas, he wasn't sure if he was going to be able to live with himself.

"It, it means I'm doing it right—which was a given from the start—but it's working _too _naturally….This reincarnation thing might not be so farfetched after all." Staring for a moment longer, Gabriel rolled his shoulders, physically shaking himself off, before he leaned back in, trying to school his features back into a serious expression. "Now shut up, I'm working."

Dean bit his lip to keep himself from pointing out that it was Gabriel himself who had interrupted their work solely out of concern for Castiel's well-being. All of Gabriel's attention had zeroed back in on his brother, his honey brown eyes narrowed again in concentration. "James, are you still with us?"

"…Yes." Hearing Jimmy's voice coming from Cas's lips just felt _wrong_, even with all the similarities between the two. That Dean was actually right, that something not entirely natural was happening to Cas—it made his blood run cold.

Dean nearly jumped as a hand suddenly fell onto his shoulder and he looked up to find Sammy staring back down at him, a supportive, though strained, smile on his lips. As lame an attempt to console Dean as it was, it did work a little. Nodding once to show that he was alright, Dean turned his attention back to the two Novak brothers as Gabriel cautiously launched into a new set of questions.

"Do you know where you are?"

"…My home." As he said that, Cas's face pinched up in confusion. It wasn't Castiel's normal confused expression, no sign of the head-tilt Dean was already so familiar with.

"Tell me what you see."

"…I see…cracked paint…empty rooms…Why are they empty?"

Dean frowned, "That sounds like when we moved in."

"Shh! No comments from the peanut gallery." Gabriel shot Dean an annoyed look as he hissed out the warning before his voice turned soft again as he looked back towards Cas, "So, James, the rooms are empty. Look around again, pay close attention. Is there anything else strange about your home?"

All three of them had to bite back a sound of surprise as Castiel's eyes slowly opened back up, revealing a gaze that didn't belong to him. His normally electrifying blue eyes were clouded over, almost, almost half-dead, the sight not made any better by Cas's now too-pale skin. He stared straight ahead as he spoke, as if he didn't even see them huddled around him. "…There, are people here…I don't know them."

"Can you describe them to me?"

"…A man…tired, serious…two boys, younger than Claire."

As soon as Gabe had asked the question Dean had pretty much guessed what Cas—Jimmy's answer was going to be but it still sent a shiver straight down his spine. Gabriel kept his calm though, and didn't miss a beat, gently pressing Jimmy for more information, more confirmation that this was actually true, about _why_ it was true. "You don't sound too upset about strangers being in your house, James."

"…They're good people" Cas's expression softened, "…I miss Amelia and Claire…Haven't seen them in so long…"

Dean's jaw tightened, not wanting to interrupt and break the spell but needing to ask; "Ask him if he remembers the night of the robbery."

"Dean, Gabe said be quie—" Before Sam could even finish berating Dean, both of them were silenced as Castiel's eerily blank gaze was suddenly on both them, piercing straight into their soul. Except it wasn't Cas, it was James looking through Cas's eyes and it was damn_ intense_. Dean had to fight to not jerk his hand away from Cas's back, probably would've if it didn't feel like all the blood had just been frozen in his veins.

"…The robbery…That man broke in, the father wasn't home…I protected the boys…I protected Dean."

Dean felt like he was choking, unable to get enough air down into his lungs to breathe. And hearing his name come from the other—it was weird, it was creepy, but it spiked straight into Dean's heart. Damn it. How much this, this thing, this person had meant to Dean when he was little, _what _he had meant to Dean, it all came rushing back. Trying to speak, the only thing Dean managed to force out was his name. "_Jimmy_."

"Hello, Dean." Dean really did stop breathing, the air caught tight in his lungs, as Cas—Jimmy—suddenly but slowly reached out and ran his hand down Dean's jaw. His fingers were freezing, his icy fingertips leaving a trail of cold as they slid across his skin. "…I'm glad to see you're safe."

This was _way_ too much to try and take in right now. "_Jesus_…Gabe—"

The older Novak seemed to know what he was thinking without Dean actually having to say it out loud which was perfect because Dean honestly wasn't sure that he could, "Tell me about it. This just went above my pay grade…" Clearing his throat, Gabriel tried to recapture Jimmy's attention who had until then kept his hazed eyes locked firmly on Dean's, "James? How old is Dean?"

A frown appeared on Cas—Jimmy's face and his hand slipped away from Dean's face. Dean couldn't decide if that was what he had wanted or not but was grateful as air began to flow back into his body as his jawline was left tingling from the chill. "…No more than eight."

_Eight_? When Jimmy had looked at him, what had he seen? Absorbing the information in stride, Gabriel continued, "And Sam? Do you remember Sam?"

Jimmy gave a small nod as Dean felt Sammy shift behind him. "…The younger brother, no more than four…Both too young for what happened that night."

Glancing back at Sam, Dean noted the small frown on his brother's face and knew that they had the same thought. "Jimmy only remembers us as kids…"

Gabriel grunted in confirmation and leaned back as Jimmy's blank stare returned to the far wall, Cas's chest expanding slowly with each inhale and his breath clouding up from his pale lips on every exhale. If a question was not addressed directly to him, Jimmy seemed to ignore it completely, as if he were deaf to their side conversation. Nevertheless Gabriel almost whispered as he glanced up at Dean and Sam, his eyes flashing as his mind struggled to connect dots that shouldn't exist, "If any of this is actually true than maybe…maybe Uncle James's awareness—whatever was left over—left once Castiel came around. Now that I think about it, the timing is too perfect not to be a coincidence. Cas was born almost exactly nine months after Uncle James died. I remember because the day we got back from his memorial was the day Mom told the rest of us that she was pregnant again."

Dean ran his free hand over his face, "This is all so freaking weird." It had been his idea in the first place and Dean had been nearly a hundred percent sure that Cas and Jimmy were one and the same the day after they had met at the bar. But having it confirmed like this was something else. It raised so many questions about life and death that Dean had never wanted to think about but, more than that, seeing Jimmy take Cas over, using his body—identical though it was—like a living ventriloquist dummy, was flat out disturbing. Even if it was Jimmy, watching the color drain from Cas's skin was not okay. "We should get Cas back soon. If the guy gets any colder he _and_ Jimmy might be moving on."

After a long second Gabriel nodded. By the look on his face Dean could tell that he wanted to know more, wanted to keep asking questions, but the deathly pallor seeping across Cas's body said that it would have to wait for another time. Shaking his head to clear it, Gabe turned back to face Jimmy, "Right. Right, let's see what we can do."

The illusionist took in a low, even breath to steady himself before speaking, "James? It is time we let Castiel come back to us, so I am going to speak to him now and you need to let him be able to hear me." Jimmy's eyes flickered closed and for a heart-pounding second Dean didn't know if he was ignoring Gabe or if he was going along with it. If Jimmy didn't let Cas back in and things continued, if Cas's body got colder and colder, he really would die.

Gabriel's jaw tightened but forged on ahead, "Castiel? Give me a sign that you can hear my voice."

Dean felt Sam's hand tighten on his shoulder as all three of them waited for something, anything to show that Cas was still in there somewhe—Dean's thoughts stopped short as he saw just the slightest twitch of Cas's lips. "There! I saw him move a little. Keep going!"

Releasing a quick breath, Gabriel nodded. "Castiel, I need you to begin to separate yourself from that memory. I need you to separate yourself from Uncle James. That room I asked you to form, I want you to search for the door that you came through, look for it in your mind. Can you find it?"

Cas's brows pulled together slightly, almost like he was confused or, worse yet, worried. Dean tried to force that thought from his mind, that Cas was having trouble escaping whatever place they had led him into. Gabriel knew what he was doing, he wouldn't let something happen to his brother. "Walk over to the door, Castiel. I'm going to count to three again, but this time we're going to go back the way we came. On three I want you to open the door, on two I want you to separate yourself completely from James and the memory, and on one you are going to step through the door and close it behind you." As Gabe took a deep breath, Dean's hand pressed harder against Cas's frigid back. He wanted to help but he had no idea where the hell he would even start.

Before a single answer came to mind, Gabe had already started his countdown, going even slower this time, "Three…" No reaction from Cas. "Two…" A small, strained, off-beat exhale. It wasn't much, but it was something. "…One."

As soon as Gabriel counted to one all the strength seemed to evaporate from Cas's body and he slumped to the side, no longer to even keep himself upright. Gabriel started forward but Dean beat him to it, already in position, and pulled Castiel against his chest, the young soldier's head rolling listlessly into the crook of his neck. "_Gabe—_He's not breathing!"

"I'm working on it!" Leaning even further in, Gabriel was trying to fight down his panic and keep his voice calm. "Cas, when I snap my fingers, I want you to wake up and for God's sake start breathing!"

Lifting a hand into the air, Gabriel snapped his fingers, the sharp noise almost immediately drowned out by a loud, shuddering gasp as Cas came back to life in Dean's arms. Sucking in big breaths of air like he had been drowning, Cas's hands reached out and grabbed tightly onto Dean's arms, clutching so tightly onto Dean's shoulders that Dean was sure there'd be hand-shaped bruises there tomorrow morning.

But Dean just took it all in, welcomed it—anything was better than seeing Cas slouched over like a corpse. He pulled Castiel closer as tremors wracked his body, the young soldier trying desperately to regain control of himself. Cas was still freezing cold and Dean swore under his breath, rubbing Castiel's arms, hoping that the friction would start to warm him back up. "Hey, Cas! Cas, you with us?"

With a stuttering inhale, Cas let it out with a small strangled noise as he lifted his head and looked up. When their eyes met, a sigh of relief slipped past Dean's lips. His blue eyes were clear and bright again and, though it was frightened and shaking, that gaze was definitely Castiel's. "D-D-Dean…Wh-what ha-hap-pened?"

"Easy there, bro." From the other side of the couch, Gabe ran his hand down Castiel's back. "Take it easy, deep breaths. You went in a little deeper than I was expecting but you managed to fight your way back out of it."

Dean hadn't even realized that Sam had left his side until a blanket was draped around Castiel's shoulders. Looking up, Dean offered his brother a thankful nod, before turning his attention back to Cas, pulling the blanket tighter around him. Castiel tried to protest but was too weak to do anything more than a fairly pathetic murmur. Hearing the noise, Gabriel snorted and patted Cas's back. "'Take it easy' means you have to let us take care of you, even if it means losing a bit of your dignity."

Out of the corner of his eye, Dean saw Sammy glance between him and Castiel, but missed the almost sly look that sparked in his eyes. If he had seen it, he probably would have been much more suspicious of his next suggestion but as it was he was too focused on getting blood flowing back into Cas's extremities to pay close attention to his brother's plotting expression. "Hey Dean, you should take Castiel back to your bedroom and have him lay down for a bit while you warm him up. He looks ready to pass out and he definitely can use the rest."

Gabriel opened his mouth but Sam cut off any complaint with a conspiring look that went unseen by both of their brothers. Gabe in turn rolled his eyes then with an exaggerated sigh pulled his hand away and began to roll down his sleeves, "Sam's right, Cas, you should probably lay down for a few minutes. I hear prolonged possession can take a lot out of a guy."

The snide joke finally drew Castiel's attention up away from Dean's face just long enough to level a half-hearted glare at Gabe, the effect ruined by his deathly-white skin and shaking limbs. Seeing the glare only made the older Novak smirk though. "While you pull yourself together, Sam and I can attempt to whip some food up so your stomach doesn't try to eat itself when you wake up."

Dean scoffed but his eyes grew soft with concern as he turned them back to Cas. As bad as the suggestion was delivered, it was plain to see just but looking at him that Castiel needed some serious rest. "They're both right. Come on," straightening up, Dean pushed Cas away just far enough so that he would be able to stand, "let me get you back to my room. Can you walk?"

Castiel swallowed as Dean stood, clearly seeing that this was not a fight he would be able to win. "I, I should be capable of walking—" While he spoke, Cas tried to push himself up but as soon as his weight was no longer supported by the couch his voice cut off as his knees buckled.

Gabriel and Sam both moved forward to catch him but Dean was already there, grabbing Cas around the waist before he hit the ground. It wasn't the most graceful catch in the world and Dean had to readjust his grip a few times before he was able to support Castiel's weight without feeling like he would fall over. Damn, the nerd soldier was heavier than he looked.

A weak growl broke past Castiel's lips, definitely not happy with himself for being so incapable. His face drew even further down into a glower as Dean pulled Cas's arm over his shoulder, Dean having to bend down just a little to accommodate Castiel's slighter frame. "That's alright, don't sweat it. Let's just take this one step at a time."

Again, if Dean had given Sammy more than a fleeting glance as they made their way out of the living room he would've seen a rather smug little gleam in his eyes. He didn't look at Gabriel at all which was probably for the best. There was an even more calculating look in his eyes but, after a quick warning glare from Sam, stayed quiet as Dean led Cas to his bedroom.

Stumbling into the back bedroom, the one that used to be their Dad's, Dean lowered Castiel onto the bed as gently as he could. It basically amounted to him dropping Cas down onto the old mattress, Castiel letting out a strained grunt at the impact. "Sorry, you alright?"

"I'm f-fine."

Like hell he was. He was still shivering for God's sake. "Sure you are. Lay back, alright? Keep that blanket around you."

Castiel grudgingly did as he was told, almost seemed to give into it now that it was just him and Dean. Letting himself fall back onto the bed, Cas let out a long, shivering breath and his blue eyes fell closed again. Watching him lay there and just shake, well…no one could really blame Dean for what he did next.

Swearing under his breath, Dean climbed up onto the bed and pulled Castiel close, rubbing his hands back up and down the younger man's arms. "Jesus, you're still ice cold."

As soon as Dean's arms had gone around him, Cas had stiffened up in shock, blue eyes flying back open and staring wide-eyed at Dean's face. Then a huge shudder ran down his spine and slowly, almost subconsciously, he relaxed and wormed his way a little closer towards Dean's body heat. As he let Dean hold him, Castiel swallowed then breathed against Dean's neck, "D-Dean…It's t-true, isn't it. Everything you said, it's all true."

Dean frowned, his chin resting on Castiel's mussed dark hair. "Looks like it." The other's tone had been flat, but again Dean could feel the emotion that wasn't present in his voice seeping off of him. Knowing for certain now that Cas was Jimmy, that Jimmy was part of him, his memories buried somewhere in Cas's mind, it made a little bit more sense. When Jimmy had been around, Dean could sense what he was feeling and Castiel must have inherited the trait. Dean would have to ask Sam if he could feel it too or if it was just him. Later though, much later.

After a long pause, Cas spoke back up, Dean feeling the light fluttering of the soldier's eyelashes as his let his eyes close again. "If it hadn't happened to me, I don't know if I would have believed it, this, that such a thing was possible."

Dean felt his own body begin to relax too. He had been so wound up watching Castiel being pushed back in his own mind that he was almost glad to get some rest himself. Feeling Cas alive, himself, and actually beginning to warm up was definitely helping. "Same here. But now that it happened, I can't say I'm sorry for it."

"N-no, I suppose not. Even if the end result w-was me getting hypothermia." Dean smirked at Cas's attempt at dry humor. "I h-have wanted answers all my life and now that I know the truth I f-feel like I can start fresh. In a way, having Uncle James's memories, knowing now what t-they are, is almost a comfort."

"Yeah. This might sound weird—" Dean cut himself off, "Nevermind. After today, nothing is going to sound weird, so…Getting to talk to Jimmy today was creepy as hell but, at the same time, really…really good. I don't know if he even knew how much he meant to me. I didn't think I'd ever get to talk to him again, or that he'd even remember me."

Castiel shifted against him and if Dean wanted to be more honest with himself he'd probably call it cuddling. "You meant a good deal to him Dean, p-perhaps all the more so because you met him in his final days, when he most needed someone to be there for him." Cas paused long enough for Dean to realize that the other's shivers were finally beginning to subside. "I will admit, some of the most pleasant memories my Uncle gave me were those of you and Sam as children. It gives me a glimpse of a you I never would have gotten to know otherwise."

"Cas…" Dean's voice trailed off at the other's words. Hell if he knew what to say to that. What he _did _know was that just lying here on his worn-out mattress, trying to get Castiel warmed back up and relaxed, absolutely_ not _cuddling, and trying not to think about any feelings Cas may or may not have for him and the warm feeling in his own stomach, was that as soon as Cas walked into his life a hole that he had never admitted to being inside him since Jimmy disappeared had instantly been filled. Again, now that he knew who Cas was, who he used to be, it made sense. He had met Castiel less than a week ago but he already felt so familiar.

But more than that, Dean felt _safe _when he was with him in a way that not even having Sammy back made him feel. Dean had always taken care of Sam, taken care of himself but, other than his father, there was only ever one person in Dean's entire life who had really kept him safe…and that was Jimmy. And ever since that night at the bar, he knew that Cas would, _could_ do the same. And as much as Dean had never been attracted to any man before in his life…Castiel was what he had been waiting for, was everything he had ever wanted in a partner. And _that_ was a very frightening thought, not just because he was a dude and, yeah, the fact that Dean was okay with that was a miracle itself, but because there was nothing to make him stay.

By the time Dean had figured all of this out, Cas's breathing had evened out against his collarbone, the man half asleep. The familiarity of it made Dean felt like he was going to break down. Before he could stop himself, words were slipping past his lip, "Stay with me."

It was the plea of a desperate six-year-old. If Dean had given himself the chance to think about what he was really asking for, he never would've been able to open his mouth. That Castiel would stop whatever his life had been before to move out to the middle of nowhere with a guy he had met less than a week before to do God knew what for the rest of his life…Dean couldn't have let himself think of that, because he _needed _to ask. Having Cas here, like _here_ here, in their house, in Dean's arms, just felt way too…too _right _to give up. Jesus, Dean was thinking like a woman now. But apparently so was Castiel.

As soon as Dean's voice reached Cas's ears Dean freaking _felt _a wave of relief roll through Cas's body. "…Are you certain?"

Thank God. Taking in a deep breath, Dean's arms tightened around Castiel, "I'm dead sure. We can talk more after you've gotten some rest, but I mean it." And he really did mean it—he wanted a freaking _relationship_ with the guy lying in his arms. He had no doubt the idea of this, of having someone new in his life, of having a _male _someone, was going to take some getting used to, but it honestly felt like if Cas left now it would be like Sammy leaving. It would've hurt that much.

Cas was definitely fully awake now, his heart beating about twice as fast. "I…don't know, I _shouldn't_, but I just…I _feel_, I feel—"

Dean could sense what Castiel wanted to say, even if he couldn't find the words for it himself. "It feels like you're home."

He felt Cas's eyes blink open in sudden realization, "…Yes. Yes, it feels like I'm finally home."

Whether it was Jimmy's influence or the strength of Castiel's own feelings, Dean didn't really care. They could figure that out later, as long as Cas stuck around. "It's good to hear we're on the same page. So if you've got nothing else going on right now, you should really consider sticking around for a while."

When he felt Castiel smile against his chest, Dean knew that he wouldn't have to convince him too hard. "I…will certainly consider it."

Yeah, Dean should've known Cas could be a little bit of a smart-ass when he wanted to. Look at his older brother. But rather than call him on it, just the feel of Castiel's eyes closing again reminded Dean that they should probably both get some actual sleep in before said older brother came looking for them. "Good, but in the meantime, what's say you and me get some rest."

Castiel had finally stopped shaking, the tremors reduced to slightly shaking fingers as he gripped at the blanket draped around his shoulders. "That would probably be wise. Will you, stay here or—"

"Are you kidding, I need some shut-eye almost as much as you do." And as weird as sleeping in the same bed with a dude should've been, it wasn't. The only man Dean had ever felt comfortable relaxing around was Sammy. And what's more, it felt like he and Cas had done this _before_. Maybe it was some sort of a carry-over from the nights Jimmy must've watched over Dean as he slept.

Whatever it was, Dean was thankful for it. He seriously was tired, exhausted after the emotional roller-coaster he, Cas, Sam, and Gabe had all gone through that day. Closing his eyes, Dean let the feel of Castiel's heartbeat begin to lull him to sleep. "'Night, Cas."

Right as he was about to doze off, Dean got the reply he had been waiting for twenty two years to hear.

"Goodnight, Dean."


End file.
